Low Of Solipsism
by Meeeo
Summary: Solipsism: The belief that the person holding the belief is the only real thing in the universe. All other persons and things are merely ornaments or impediments to his happiness. DM/HG. Rated M. AR.
1. Chapter 1

**I've had this story in my head for a while now and I had to give it a shot. I don't know how long it is going to be or the actual direction it will take, but I'll figure it out as I go on.**

 **The story will 'dance' around Hermione's and Draco's present day and past, with intercalating chapters from each period. The present day is Post-Hogwarts and set in 2003, when Hermione is 24 years old.**

 **It is a Dramione story (obviously) and it is rated M for several reasons (language, explicit content).**

 **Here is the first chapter and I'll upload the second one right after, since this chapter works like a kind of prologue.**

 **I hope you enjoy and reviews are very much appreciated :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

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 **Year 2003, June  
The Burrow**

Falter.

This was the one verb from the English language that Hermione truly disliked. It was an ugly word; a verb with many things adjacent to it, things that normally spelled other bad, ugly things. Things that Hermione didn't want to consider or think about. Things that made her lose her great Gryffindor courage that her house was well known for – that she, as the Golden Trio's brightest witch was well known for. It was such a despicable, devious word that she tried to avoid it all together. She would never admit to a faltering moment, because such moments should never be in the her life, for she was Hermione Granger – she has seen too much, felt too much and knew things others knew nothing about. She had been to hell and back and she made it through it all, because of her heated hate towards that very same verb, that very same notion of faltering.

Hermione considered herself to be brave, with little to no regrets. She took pride in herself for all the things she had accomplished, from her Outstanding N.E.W.T.s to her fierce participation in defeating the Wizard's World most dangerous and vile wizard of all time, Voldemort. She took pride in her job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and she took pride in her friends, family, former teachers and soon-to-be-husband. Hermione was righteous, courageous and a force to reckoned with. She was a Gryffindor. She was Hermione Granger, soon to be Hermione Weasley. And as she stared at herself in the mirror, in her beautiful white dress, minutes away of making her way down the aisle, she repeated all of these things in her head, trying to get rid of that obnoxious word that insisted on floating around her perfectly, arranged curls.

Faltering.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and gathering up all the courage and pride she had in her. She blamed the present moment of her current faltering situation, on that well known sensation called nerves. She had been told about this. Alas, it was normal, right? You are supposed to feel nervous before making a life changing decision. You are supposed to feel nervous on your wedding day. You are nervous about the stupid walk towards the altar – you can trip on the end of your dress, you can break the heels of your shoes. You are nervous about facing all your friends and family, nervous about making a fool out of yourself if you show up not smiling enough or with some smeared lipstick on your face. You are nervous about your soon-to-be-husband's reaction to your dress pick; nervous about him hating it or looking at you awkwardly. Hell, you are nervous about the whole bloody ceremony and first dance and what not. What if you miss your steps? What if you spill pumpkin juice all over your dress?

Hermione grimaced at that last thought, unwanted memories making their way into her brain. Memories that spelled other bad, ugly things. Things that had to do with that damned verb:

faltering.

There it was again. Shit.

She stared harder at the woman in the mirror. She took notion of her eyes, nose, mouth, eyebrows. She watched as her chest rose and fell in the strapless top half of her dress. She concentrated on the shape of her bare arms, her gaze descending lower and lower until it came across the ruffled piece of paper she held in her right hand. She stopped and took in the details of how her fingers curled around it; of how the thin looking parchment crumbled in her hold. She was suffocating it with her hand, tearing down its once perfect edges. She hoped the words it carried would die, smothered between her trembling fingers. She hope those words would dissipate in time, like they never existed in the first place. Those words… That abhorrent, beautiful, elegant writing. Those words were being the death of all her resolve, of all her bravery, of all the things that made her Hermione Granger. Three stupid, simple words…

Hermione shook her head as if to clear her thoughts.

Get it together. Focus. Don't falter. You never falter. You hate that verb. Focus, Hermione.

She repeated the manta in her overworked brain, over and over again, until she could take a step back from the mirror. And she took it, as the suffocated parchment fell to the floor in front of her. She took another step and another and another. And without hesitating again, she turned around, grabbing the skirt of her dress to prevent any embarrassing moments and walked, heads on, out of the room and into her new, awaited future.

Hermione never looked back at the fallen piece of parchment, as it unfolded on the floor, almost magically. She never looked back to see those three atrocious, enigmatic words being reflected on the full body mirror.

 _'_ _Don't do it'_

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 **Thank-you for reading! A short prologue, but the next chapter will be longer :) I also apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes, since my English is rather rusty.**


	2. Chapter 2

**And here is the second chapter :) Hope you enjoy! Please review if you do!**

 **Year 1995/96 is their Fifth Year.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

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 **Year 1995, November  
The Great Hall**

Hermione didn't usually dress pretty. Throughout her life, she always assumed practical before beautiful. She considered herself to be a somewhat plain looking girl, with her brown hair, brown eyes. Her interest in clothes and make-up was so basic that she did not learn how to use mascara until the age of fifteen – that was last year, of course. She never thought much about it, her mind preferring to hide away in books and experiments and magic. Many of her childhood friends and teachers referred to her as being an irritating, ordinary infant. Her beauty wasn't one that stood out between her peers and she never thought of herself as cute or attractive. Sometimes, she wished she could care more. Dress more, put on some make-up and have some eyes turn. But, truth was, Hermione did not care. She had no interest, really. Although, she did admit that when she did manage to turn heads at the Yule Ball it felt good – it felt really good.

Hermione Granger, eye turner.

She chuckled softly at that last statement. Currently heading towards the Great Hall for some breakfast, Hermione had decided that today she would dress pretty. She took extra care with her still extremely bushy hair, making use of her Sleekeazy's Hair Potion for once. She had applied some light pink blush, a little bit of mascara and glossed her lips. And it was true what they said about make-up having a kind of confidence aura when you wore it. The stride in her steps was a confident one, granting she usually always felt confident in herself and abilities – she was the brightest witch of her age, after all – but today there was something different. Hermione wasn't used to feeling pretty or good-looking and as much as she couldn't care less about those things, there was always something more powerful that made you change your mind. Something that made you want to feel pretty and beautiful; something that made you blush harder and your heart quicken. Something that she constantly read about and wondered about, but rarely took it in herself to try out, simply because it sounded so… not-important, when considering the great scheme of things. Something that made Hermione chuckle on her walk to breakfast. Something masculine. Something like boys. Yes, boys.

She was no stranger to the concept of boys or attraction or sex. Her parents made sure she learned from very early on that all that crap about the bees and the birds, was false. Human beings have reproductive systems and they are the main contributor to the continuation of the species. Men have penises and woman have vaginas and when they come together, they have the power to form a new life. This was something Hermione had learned from a very young age, so when kids reached that age of laughing at all these words, Hermione didn't felt the need to. For her, it was a completely natural process, necessary for human survivability. Sex was just that… sex. She saw the opposite gender as a required tool for the female gender to give birth, when that same female found herself a suitable partner. Yes, her parents also gave her all that love crap.

 _"Only do it when you feel ready and with someone you trust and think is worthy of your virtue."_

Hermione had never been so embarrassed.

Nonetheless, her parents were right, in the end. Her knowledge proved useful and when boys reached that age of being fearless of cuties, Hermione knew what to expect, au contraire of some of her friends. But that didn't mean that Hermione took up interest in boys, whatsoever. She remained herself, with a head buried away in a book, trying to learn all there was to learn. She didn't feel the need to experience the things herself, for it all happened perfectly in her imagination and that was enough for her. Even when some of her dorm friends came back with some unusually wild stories, containing members of the opposite sex – sometimes they even shared comparisons on the size of those members' member – Hermione was quite content in just listening and learning.

So, even though she was absolutely no foreigner to boys, boys did not find her a local at all. They avoided her, mostly because she never showed any interest. Or maybe because she was a simple, plain girl, with no real experience in the heart of eye turning and seduction. And that was ok for Hermione. She almost considered herself superior in a way, for not have fallen into the temptations of the flesh. And Merlin, she sounded so much like a little virgin nun just about now. That is not what she meant, at all! She simply knew she was too busy with other pressing matters, such as the never-ending information all the books contained and the rising of the darkest wizard of all time. She had no time to spend with boys or hormones or sex. She was being the bigger person; the intellectual one that had better ways to occupy her time. And boys sensed that. So, they didn't even bother trying. And that was ok for Hermione.

Until, she decided to dress pretty because she was eyeing a boy and the boy was eyeing back. And she wanted to look her best at breakfast. And that was so unlike Hermione Granger that she had to chuckle again. Who thought? Her she was, reaching the Great Hall's doors, feeling confident and attractive, all because of some silly boy. The Wizarding World was on the verge of something big, Harry was worried, Dumbledore was worried, everyone was worried, and here she was, almost giggling about a silly tool of the opposite gender. And strangely enough, Hermione couldn't bring herself to stop, because she liked this feeling. It made her remember the Yulle Ball all over again and if felt good to be in this position once more. The feeling wasn't strange or silly, it was refreshing.

She entered the Great Hall and made her way towards her seat, at the Gryffindor table. Some heads turned, more in question that anything else, but that was enough for Hermione.

Hermione, the eye turner.

By the time she took her seat opposite to Harry, she was almost grinning wildly.

"You look cheerful."

"I'm in a good mood!" she answered, grabbing a piece of toast.

Harry looked at her suspiciously and eyed her appearance. She looked… different.

"What happened to your hair?"

Hermione took a bite at her toast, taking a while to answer while she looked around the hall, searching for the very same motive that made her hair look different.

"Used some of that potion. Had some extra time in morning. I figured, why not?" she answered again, still looking around the hall.

"It suits you."

Hermione turned her attention to the green-eyed boy in front of her and smiled, a small thanks leaving her mouth. The refreshing, rare feeling was coming back again. She felt pretty.

"Are you trying to catch someone's attention?" Harry asked, as he went back to reading the Daily Prophet.

She took a sip of her pumpkin juice, as she pondered what to answer. It wasn't that she didn't trust Harry or did not talk with him about these things. He was her best-friend, almost like a brother. She just didn't know how to answer. She WAS trying to do just that. She wanted the boy to eye her back and like what he was seeing. How would Harry react to that? To something, that was so unlike Hermione, especially in these dealing times?

"What if I was?" she questioned carefully, as she averted his eyes, searching the Hall more discreetly this time.

Harry looked up at her and saw how she bit her lip. She used to that when she wasn't certain about something and Hermione was almost never uncertain about something. So she was, indeed. Hence the hair and… was she wearing make-up?

He laughed softly.

"What?" Hermione eyed him suspiciously, feeling a little self-conscious. She was used to her boys not really seeing her as a girl or a woman, but more as one of the guys. It usually didn't bother her, but today she wanted nothing more than to feel like a girl or a woman.

"Nothing! I just think, you are already pretty as yourself. And a guy should notice that on his own." When she was about to snap at him, Harry cut her short "I mean, I'm not used to seeing you… you know. Acting all girly."

"I am a girl, you know." Hermione retorted, her good mood rapidly dissipating.

"I know, I know! I'm not meaning this in a bad way, Hermione. I find it… good, actually. It's nice to see you smile." he tried a tentative smile himself, hoping to lessen the awkward tension.

Hermion didn't respond, taking another bite on her toast before, finally, making eye contact with the one person she actually longed to see this morning. And she couldn't help the small blush making its way up her cheeks.

He was in Ravenclaw, so naturally, his intellect was also something that was very attractive to her. He wasn't, by far, the most beautiful boy in school, but he wasn't bad looking. He had nice green eyes and a lovely smile. She met him in her Ancient Runes class at the start of the year and didn't think nothing of it, as she usually does. But, as class went on, she caught him staring at her a couple of times and she started to stare back. Soon enough, they would discreetly stare and smile at each other and Hermione thought back to all her parent's talk about the birds and the bees and hormones and sex and boys and couldn't help but feeling like a little schoolgirl again.

After Viktor Krum, Hermione showed no real interest in anyone else. She couldn't deny that Viktor made her reconsider her ideologies about boys and sex, but mentally, he wasn't that much of a match for her, although she doubted she could actually find someone that could stimulate her mind as much as she wanted them too. She was too bright for her own good and she knew it well. So she knew, better than anyone, that not all people would interest her, simply because, she would always assume she was better than them. It was a hard fact but it was the truth. Hermione was very intelligent and it took people some effort to keep up with her. Maybe that was another reason boys avoided her.

But this boy didn't.

So, she smiled while trying to hide her blush and he smiled back. They haven't talked much, apart from some hellos and goodbyes, but she had a feeling he would talk soon. If he didn't, she would consider talking herself. She has faced more dangerous things, right? How hard could it be to actually talk to a boy and ask him out?

"Who are you smiling at?" Ron suddenly asked as he took a seat next to her. He paused to take a better look at her and frowned "And what is up with your hair?"

Hermione sighed in frustration as he broke her sweet, girly moment.

"She used some of that potion! You know, the one Ginny advised her to buy." Harry stated, as a matter of fact.

"What for?" Ron continued, filling up his plate with eggs and sausages.

Seriously, Ronald. Can you be any more tactless? Hermione sighed again and ignored him as she finished the rest of her toast.

"So, Quidditch practice today?" Harry hurriedly tried to catch Ron's attention, knowing how thick his best friend could be sometimes. And, as if on cue, Ron forgot all about Hermione's hair and started a conversation with Harry about one of his favourite subjects.

Hermione seized the opportunity to send one more glance at the Ravenclaw table, hoping to catch up on some more green-eyed gaze, when, suddenly, she felt something very wet fall down her head, as if it was raining profusely. But it didn't rain on the Great Hall and the smell that filled her nose wasn't that of wet rain, but of a familiar fruit that was, seconds ago, in her own mouth. Yes, she could smell it and taste it as it reached her lips and she was forced to close her eyes, as that sticky substance began taking possession of her face. She couldn't actually make up what was going on, until she heard a voice, a voice she knew too well and she loathed as much. A voice that made her insides cringe with hate and her temperament rise so high, it could kill birds miles up in the air. And that voice as laughing. Laughing hard, as it stumbled with the words:

"I'm sorry, Granger! Didn't see you there!"

And it continued to laugh and was soon joined by other laughing voices as well. Hermione could hear most of the Great Hall's contagious laughter, as slick pumpkin juice drained down her hair and face. Her pretty face and sleek hair. The hair that took so long to tame and the face that took so much precision to prettify. It could have been any other day, but it had to be the day that Hermione decided to look pretty for some stupid boy, that wouldn't even talk to her.

Ron had instantly sat up and began screaming profanities at the perpetrator, accusing him of doing it on purpose and other bad things Hermione did not want to acknowledge. She continued in her seat, eyes closed, almost afraid of opening them again and meeting with green-eyes, that were probably laughing at her too. She heard Harry sitting up as well, trying to calm Ron down and also condemning the author of the mortifying crime, threatening him with a bunch of hexes. Hermione heard all of this and wished she wasn't frozen in her seat. She should be reacting. She should be hexing Malfoy from here to oblivion for ruining her, for once, perfect hair and face. She shouldn't be so upset, like it was the end of the world. She has been almost to the end of the world and this doesn't compare. This was pumpkin juice all over her face, hardly something of life or death. But to her, it sure felt that way today. And it was stupid. She knew it was stupid, but she couldn't help it. Not today. All she wanted was to feel pretty for a boy she liked. And Malfoy had to ruin it, like he ruins everything.

"I said I was sorry Weasel! No need to get so defensive about your poor excuse for a girlfriend."

Shut up, Malfoy. Just shut up. I don't want to deal with you today.

"Sorry!? I know you did it on purpose, you bloody ferret! You noticed her hair was different today and – "

Oh Merlin, Ron. Just shut up as well!

"Ron, leave it! Hermione are you alright?" Harry asked from the other side of table.

"Different? As in, bushy and ugly as always? If that is the case, then yes. I tried to give it a wash down. Try to put it back in its place, but it seems I failed again."

"Why you little…"

"RON STOP!"

Hermione rapidly stood up from her seat, standing between Ron and the cause of this embarrassing moment. Her hair was sticky and glued to the sides of her face. Malfoy must have dumped the whole cup into it. She did not believe for one second that it wasn't intentional, but she didn't want Ron to make more of a scene than it actually was.

She could sense that all the eyes at the Great Hall were watching the exchange between them and right now she couldn't care less. She was livid with anger and mortified. You try to do one idiotic girly thing and look where it leads you. Tsk, tsk.

Being a nun didn't sound so bad right now.

Ron was about to retort, but Hermione was quicker and turned around to face Malfoy. He was smirking down at her, all that façade of it being an accident, gone. He had grown taller over the summer and she had to stretch her neck to face him fully. He looked sleek and elegant as always and she noticed that he had his two goonies, Crabbe and Goyle, behind him, smirking and laughing as well. No, this was not an accident. This was Malfoy being Malfoy and deciding to ruin her morning. She wondered if he did take notice that she had put some effort in looking good today and wanted to put an end to it, for Merlin knows why, or if it was just some fateful coincidence. The latter was more of a possibility, since Draco Malfoy would never notice her in that way. He hated her and all she represented. And it was just like he said: her hair would always be bushy, just as she would always be a filthy, little Mudblood.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something to him, to wipe that foul smirk off his face, to give him a taste of his own medicine. She pondered throwing juice right back at him or even worse, stab him with a fork. She considered hexing him painfully, make him pay, with everyone watching. Make him beg, humiliate him. Oh, how she wanted to do all those things! But, she was Hermione Granger. She was not pretty now, even though she did manage to turn more heads. And boys be damned! They were coarse, rude, and messy. She was Hermione Granger and she wouldn't go down like this. Not without a fight.

So, she did just that.

SLAP.

"Grow up, Malfoy."

And without waiting for the reply, Hermione turned around and left the scene. She didn't even spare a glance at the Ravenclaw table. She didn't even acknowledge Ron's laughter and Harry's chortling. And she certainly didn't see Malfoy's glare as she walked away. She may not be pretty, but she was Hermione Granger. And people would do well not to forget that.

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 **Ok, one more done :) Please keep in mind that I have already written like, 5 chapters for this story, but I'm not going to upload it all at once. Since I tend to be a pretty lazy person (tehe...) I gave myself a head start, so I would try to update regularly.**

 **Again, thank-you for reading and I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes :) Hope you are having a fantastic day!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yay! Another chapter :) A shoutout to Charlotte Bird for being my first reviewer, yay! Thank-you!**

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 **Year 2003, June  
Ministry of Magic**

"So, how was the honeymoon!? You have to tell me all about it!"

Hermione looked up from her desk, in her office, at the barging voice in the doorway. Ginny Weasley was beaming madly as she made her way towards the working witch. Her smile was radiant, as if having Hermione as her new sister-in-law, was one of the best things that happened to her. And Hermione truly believed that to Ginny, it kind of was. The red hair witch took a seat in front of Hermione's desk, fidgeting impatiently.

"It was good. We had a lot of fun!" Hermione replied, as she took a break from the stack of paperwork that adorned her desk.

Ginny waited for the older witch to continue, but Hermione seemed content with the simple answer.

"AND?" Ginny pressed on.

"And… what?"

"Details!"

Hermione usually didn't like to go into details when it came to the privacy of her own life, but she supposed Ginny was having none of it today.

"How many times did you do it? A lot I reckon!"

"Ginny!" Hermione blushed at that.

The ginger witch laughed, used to the prudish side of Hermione Granger. True, she could ditch the details about her brother's skills at lovemaking, but she couldn't help but feel ecstatic at their wedding. She knew her brother had always loved Hermione, almost from the very first day, even though he thoroughly denies it. And she knew Hermione always had a soft spot for Ron, even though their bickering had not diminished, whatsoever, in these past couple of years of dating and, now, as husband and wife. So, naturally, she wanted to know everything there was to know about the two of them, just so she could feel happy all over again.

"I'm sorry Hermione, I'm just excited about all of this. I still can't believe it. We're family!"

Hermione laughed softly, absently stroking her wedding ring. Yes, they were family now, but it's not like they weren't before. A mere formality, that is all.

"Did he at least eat with his mouth closed?"

"Surprisingly enough, he did! He was a gentleman."

"Ron Weasley and gentleman in the same sentence… I'm appalled!"

"He has a good teacher."

Both witches giggled at each other. Both of them knew about Ron's lack of table manners, but Hermione was very strict about it and, eventually, it would pay off.

"What is the plan now? When am I going to be an aunt?" Ginny asked.

"Whoa. Calm down, Gin. I'm currently deciding on what I want for lunch."

Ginny giggled again "I know, I know. I'm just messing with you. A lot of work, huh?"

"A ton." Hermione sighed, taking a once over at the papers on her desk. She had only been away for a week and the stack had doubled. And they had wanted her to take two weeks off! Bloody lunatics.

"I was thinking about inviting the newly-weds for dinner tonight. Harry misses you."

And Hermione missed him as well. Even though they both worked for the Ministry, they hardly ever saw each other, lately more than usual because of all the wedding preparations and honeymoon. As an Auror, Harry was often out of the country or on special missions and Hermione… well, she had this office. Not to get her wrong, she loved her work. Ever since she formed S.P.E.W, she knew this was where she wanted to be. Nothing gave her more pleasure than defending the wonderful, magical creatures of the Wizarding World. But, sometimes, she missed the excitement of the dangerous life. And that was something so ridiculous to say, but after almost 10 years of peril, a person kind of gets used to it.

"Has he returned from Sweden already?"

"Yesterday. He is exhausted, but is looking forward to see you guys tonight."

The brunette witched smiled, hoping for a bit of normality. The last couple of weeks were stressful. Preparing a wedding is such hard work. If someone had told Hermione how many details and specifics you have to deal with, when it comes to wedding planning, she would have never gone through with it. Honestly, it was Ron that had insisted in the whole ceremony ordeal thingy. If it had been up to her, they would have done something more practical, with very few friends and family, no big, fancy dresses or two-meter cakes. So, after this was all said and done, Hermione just wanted to go back to her normal life and a dinner with three of her favourite people ever, sounded just right.

"Harry needs a break, especially now, with all this ludicrous, nonsense floating around!"

Hermione looked questioningly at her husband's younger sister, having absolutely no clue of what she was on about.

"Oh, you don't know!" Realization swept over Ginny's face.

Hermione's eyebrows raised even higher, if possible.

Ginny slapped her own forehead, in an over dramatic fashion before replying:

"How could you know? You were away in your blissful honeymoon! And it is all still very fresh and well… classified."

"Ginny, what happened?"

Hermione was getting anxious. What had happened? Was it Voldemort? Was he back? No… she would have heard it by now. Was it about Death Eaters? Were they planning something? Was it something do to with Harry, Ron, the Ministry, her department?

Her thoughts were rushing through her head, as Ginny kept rambling about how she had been so silly.

"Gin! What is going on?" the bushy-haired asked again, trying to get the small witch out of her little incoherent speech.

"Well wait 'till you hear about this!" she snorted.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, what?"

Hermione wasn't the most patient person.

"Apparently someone with inside information about a new Death Eater congregation, has volunteered to work for the Ministry."

Well that certainly wasn't something new. There had been several cases where former Death Eaters would offer their services to the Ministry. These were few and most of them wanted to keep their identity a secret. Some sold information in exchange for protection or to try to lighten their sentence in Azkaban. Others did it for revenge of a lost family member or loved one. And there were even a few cases where strict purebloods actually wanted to make amends for their actions. The latter were the rarest, of course; most of them just wanted to see if they could skip jail time.

But, for Ginny to be so annoyed about this, that wasn't all.

Hermione waited for her friend to continue.

"This supposed informer claims to have a source that can confirm the existence of several reunions taking place, between some older followers of Voldemort. These were, supposedly, never captured or found."

"That is a lot of supposes Gin. If there had been Death Eater gatherings, we would have known by now."

Hermione wasn't one for speculations. She liked facts, hard, known facts. After the war, the Ministry had assigned special Aurors just for the purpose of keeping an eye out for returners or deserters, especially those who were known to have played an essential part in Voldemort's army. Most of those were in Azkaban doing time or being present to trial. Those who were effectively free or with unknown whereabouts, also had a hard time. The Ministry was taking extreme measures to prevent any recurrences of anything that resembles a cult or a War. The Wizarding World wanted nothing more to do with Wars and they made sure of it. Hermione made sure of it. So, if this was, in fact, happening, they needed a lot more than someone who thought they had information.

Even so, she figured that was not all, since the subject was apparently leaving Harry tense and uncomfortable.

"The source appears to be kind of reliable…" Ginny answered, looking hesitant.

Hermione did not like the sound of that.

"He's well known for his insufferable attitude and striking resemblance to a small, animal belonging to the Mustelidae family."

How Ginny even knew the class family of the ferret was unknown to Hermione, but, wait, scratch that. Hermione absolutely loathed the sound of that.

"Malfoy."

Ginny nodded in agreement.

Hermione tried to breathe normally, not wanting to alert Ginny of anything that was going on through her body, since the moment she had referred to this informer as insufferable. Hermione knew her body language was not the most subtle of languages and this was a moment where she utterly despised that fact. There had been many moments where her body language had given her away; important moments, dangerous ones and embarrassing ones. That one time she had taken chocolate from the kitchen drawer without asking. Her mom saw straight through her lie. Or that one time Ron had given her a hideous looking bracelet and she couldn't hide the fact that she thought it was hideous. Or even that one time when Malfoy –

No. Stop right there. There will be no thinking of Malfoy right now. She was trying hard enough to keep her body from hyperventilating in front of her sister-in-law, she didn't need any more hyperventilating reasons.

Her heart was racing, her palms were sweaty.

Keep calm Hermione and keep a straight face.

She had learned, over the years, to keep her cool. She trained her poker face that had been essential, back in the day, when peril was around every corner. She mastered the art of undercover missions and was taught how to sound secure and confident, even when she was anything but. And right now, she needed to stay tuned and focus on that exact same training. Because Ginny, of all people, could not know how much this new piece of information was affecting her.

Malfoy wanted to work for the Ministry. Malfoy had information. Malfoy, who had been missing for years. Malfoy wanted to collaborate with them. Malfoy was back. Where had he been? How did Malfoy know about these meetings? Was his hair the same? Malfoy was back.

Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy.

"Hermione, you ok?"

Crap.

"I'm processing."

"It surprised me to, really. I mean, can you imagine the nerve of that bloke? Showing up after all these years, after all he has done, claiming he wants to work with us?" Ginny didn't seem to notice.

Good.

"Are you sure about this?" At least she managed to keep a straight voice. If it were for her heart, it would be bouncing all over the place, running around in circles, making big U-turns.

"Harry is beyond himself. You should have seen the amount of foul language he used to describe the meeting he had with Kingsley."

"When was this?"

"Two days after your wedding, hence you not knowing."

Perfect. Just perfect.

Hermione could feel a slight headache begging to form. Her knees were trembling under her desk, as she tried, so hard, to keep a straight posture and face.

"I still really can't believe it. Last time I heard, he was engaged to Astoria Greengrass, before disappearing off to Merlin knows where. And now he wants to serve the Ministry? Load of bollocks, if you ask me."

"And Kingsley is ok with this?" Hermione asked.

"It seems that way. They are going to interrogate him in two days."

Two days? Two days and Draco Malfoy is going to walk through the Ministry. Two days and the son of Lucius Malfoy is going to be interrogated concerning his actions and intentions. Two days and…

Merlin, Hermione just wanted her normality back and this was far from it.

"Why was I not informed of this?" it slipped her mouth before she could even think of it.

"You were on your honeymoon! Why would you want to be bothered by that filthy, little ferret?"

"Because if there really have been these gatherings, we must be prepared and think of a plan."

"We don't even know if this isn't all just some Malfoy scheme!" Ginny replied "Besides, I think you were right the first time. If there had been Death Eater activity, we would have known about it."

Hermione could not think properly right now. She need fresh hair. The room was too hot, she was too hot. This was not how she had wanted to start her week. Her anxiety had finally began to subside during her honeymoon – she had Ron's magical fingers to thank for that – and this was not the situation she wished to be in, at all. Draco Malfoy being back in her life was not good. It had never been good and it would never be.

"Yes, well… Who else knows about this?" she asked.

"If you are wondering if Ron knows, he doesn't. I don't think Harry has told him yet. Harry and Kingsley are the only ones on top of the situation. And now you know, as well." Ginny replied.

Ron doesn't know. Good.

Ron is going to know, tonight. Not good.

Hermione desperately needed to get out of this office.

"Yes, well… Thank-you Gin, for telling me. I really have to get some work done now." She tried to say this the smoothest way possible.

"A little gossip never hurt anyone. We are sisters-in-law now, we are allowed to gossip about our husbands' private, secret information."

Hermione gave a small smile, wondering if the other witch suspected that this, to her, was not just some harmless gossip. She hoped not. Her body language cover could not hold much longer.

"Anyway, I'll see you tonight then. You don't have to bring anything. I'll make sure to make enough food for your pig husband." Ginny said, getting up from her chair and making her way towards the door.

"He doesn't like my cooking anyway. Prefers to cook himself."

"If only his table manners could be as good as his cooking. You would be even luckier!" Ginny beamed, a large smile on her face.

Hermione smiled back. Yes, lucky. That she was.

Right?

"I'll leave you to your work then. See you tonight."

"Bye, Gin!"

And just as the door clicked shut, Hermione began to hyperventilate.

* * *

 **Once again, thank-you for reading :) Hope you are having a fantastic day!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Update day! Thank-you for the follows :) hope this story won't disappoint! Reviews are appreciated to see if I'm on the right track.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I wish I did own Harry Potter, but I don't. If I did, Hermione and Draco would kiss and make out and have lots of babies.**

* * *

 **Year 1997, January  
Gryffindor Common Room**

"That doesn't prove anything."

Harry was awestruck.

"Hermione, it all fits. The conversation he had with Snape, the threat he made to Borgin. And let's not forget the things he said to Parkinson and Blaise on the train. It explains why he is acting so weird this year. He is a Death Eater!"

"Snape is working for Dumbledore."

"We don't know that."

"Yes, we do! Dumbledore trusts him and we can't get our personal dislike towards Snape affect our judgement on this matter. Or Malfoy."

"Are you seriously defending him? It's Malfoy!"

"Exactly. He can act all high and mighty, but deep down he is a coward and you know that Harry. He bullies people. That is what he does, but come real danger, he hides under his fathers' robes."

"Crabbe and Goyle haven't been around lately."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with it! It may mean that he is around something dangerous. Dangerous enough to scare them off."

"We are back to speculating then."

"I'm not speculating anything. I know what I heard and I know that Malfoy is different this year. I just know it."

"We need more proof."

"Hermione, can you please just trust me on this?"

They have been arguing for the past half hour. Since the beginning of term, Harry was after this wild theory that Malfoy had finally taken the Dark Mark, following his fathers' footsteps. True, he was acting a little shadier than usual, but Malfoy was well known for being more bark than bite. Hermione found it hard to believe he had actually taken such a dark path. But that was her own fault really. Sometimes she just gave in to wishful thinking.

Right now, they were back in the Gryffindor common room, after an unproductive, late study session in the library. They were supposed to study for their N.E.W.T.s – Hermione's idea of course, since neither Harry nor Ron seemed to notice that they were taking them next year already. But, alas, the conversations came around the same topic: Malfoy being a Death Eater or Ron's bitching about not being invited to Slughorn's Christmas party. After deciding there wouldn't be much studying and finding a need for a more private place to talk, they decided to come back to the common room.

It was late, people were asleep, the only light in the room came from the fireplace and they were all seated on the ground in front of it. It made a cute picture: three best friends, hanging around in the middle of the night, near a cosy fire. It would have made a cute picture, if they weren't talking about such a gloomy subject.

Times were darker than ever. Ever since the knowledge that Voldemort was definitely back, Hogwarts had a tense feeling to it. Everybody was looking over their shoulder, afraid of being assaulted or murdered. It was a dramatic picture, but it was the truth. Most of the students were scared, some were so scared they didn't come back to school. Those who stayed, tended to stick to themselves or stroll in groups, too nervous about being alone somewhere. The change was palpable. Something was coming, something big. And they had to figure out what it was, fast. And right now, Malfoy and that creepy Half-Blood Prince book were their only leads.

"I don't think Malfoy was joking when he said all those things to the other Slytherins. I mean, he kicked Harry in the face for it." Ron decided to intervene.

"I'm not saying he was joking. I'm just saying we can't go around accusing someone if we don't have any concrete proof."

"Oh come on, Hermione! What more proof can you possibly want?" Harry questioned, getting annoyed.

"I don't know, alright? I just…." She struggled "I just find it hard to believe…"

"Since when is it hard to believe that Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, a well-known Death Eater, Pureblood racist and bully, that has tormented us for years, can be a Death Eater?" Ron asked "It is a no brainer for me."

Hermione remained silent, no really knowing what to say.

She disliked Malfoy with passion. For almost six years he had, subsequently and without any visible remorse, made her days at Hogwarts all-to-imperfect. He was the pebble in her shoe; the horn in her back. He was one of the many things she actually regretted, having in her life. Astute as always – cunning and direct – with a comeback always ready to slip from his lips. Yes, Draco Malfoy truly was a paradox. Intelligent and powerful, there were few who could stand as high and mighty, as the Slytherin Prince; the Malfoy astounding good looks only being a bonus. The all-to-well known cruel and cocky attitude that he never seemed to get tired of was always there, making itself known. His cruelty and manipulating attitude towards others made the boy – yes, she would not consider him a man, yet – almost unbreakable. Almost.

A paradox indeed.

Draco Malfoy could have been so much better. In so many ways, he'd overcome Harry with a mere flick of his wand. Sometimes, the Boy-Who-Lived would be compared with the Slytherin Prince, and, sometimes, Malfoy got the upper hand. But instead of using that as an advantage, the boy had decided to simply hate the scar-headed (as Hermione heard him call once) with burning passion, dreaming of the day, when he would finally get to beat Harry.

Don't you know Malfoy? As cliché as it may sound, in the end, evil does not overcome good. Harry would always win, simply because, your heart is not in the right place. You've created a shell around yourself; a false persona. You take your personality, mix it up with a bit arrogance and hold it up, for everyone to see; for everyone to fear.

Yes, a paradox.

Malfoy was all of those things and worse. But was he capable of true evil? Could he follow the lead of a depraved man, with such immoral and disgusting beliefs? Could he actually have no hope left?

"What should we do?" she asked.

"Kick his arse."

"Ron! Do you honestly think violence is the solution to everything?" Hermione scowled.

"No, but when it comes to Malfoy, I don't think there is a better way."

"I'm not saying we should hurt him, but we should definitely confront him." Harry said.

"And demand he tell us? Right, because that will work." Ron snorted.

"We should go to Dumbledore."

"And say what? It is like you said Hermione, we have no proof."

"Dumbledore might be able to help, Harry. If Malfoy is really that far gone, we need help. Confronting him or getting aggressive isn't the way."

"Or we can find a way to prove he is a Death Eater. You know, catch him in the act." Ron chirped in.

"We hardly ever see him anymore. And last time I tried that, it didn't end well." Harry grimaced at the unwanted memory of laying on a carriage floor with a bleeding nose.

"We can talk to Snape."

Harry and Ron both looked at her like she had grown two heads.

"You said it yourself, Harry. Snape knows what is going on with Malfoy and is even trying to help him. Maybe if we can find a way to make Snape talk…"

"We can spy on Snape." Ron offered.

Well, that wasn't exactly something new, since it was something Harry had already done. Hermione didn't reply and Harry gave a brief nod, the three of them reaching some kind of silent agreement. Nevertheless, although Hermione believed that Snape had some kind of answer, she was almost one hundred percent certain that he was struggling with this as well. He was clearly trying to figure out what was going on with Malfoy, so he could warn Dumbledore, such as Arthur Weasley and Lupin had said. It had to be… Right?

"We could try to talk to Dumbledore, to see if he knows anything. Just point it out and try to understand if he –"

"Whatever Malfoy is planning, Hermione, Dumbledore can't know. If he knew, he would have done something by now." Harry stated.

"He could be protecting –"

"Why would he want to protect him? Malfoy is vile."

"Malfoy is a student of Hogwarts, like any other student, Ronald. Dumbledore protects the students, even those who don't deserve it."

"Will you stop defending him? Merlin." Ron was getting angry.

"I'm not defending him! I'm just saying –"

"Right, that is enough. We have already decided. This is getting us nowhere. Let's just go to bed."

Harry, ever the peace maker.

"I'm just saying" Hermione continued as if she didn't hear him "That Dumbledore is the Headmaster and has to lookout for all the students. Maybe he knows exactly what Malfoy is up too and if it is something that serious, he could be protecting him or trying to persuade him to stop."

"If Dumbledore knew, he would have probably told Harry by now."

"Right, as if Dumbledore doesn't know that Harry should be the last person to acknowledge that information."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, feeling offended.

"Argh! Just forget it. Let's just go to bed, like you said." Hermione replied, getting up from the floor, dusting her legs along the way.

"I still don't understand how you cannot possibly be with us on this." Harry got up as well.

"I am with you, Harry. I'm just trying to think this through, rationally and wisely."

"What is there to even think about? Voldemort is back and clearly in need of new followers. Malfoy is the perfect choice." Ron was the tallest of the three, standing up in between them.

"Why? Just because his father is a Death Eater?"

"Amongst other things, yes."

"Hermione, please, this is Malfoy we are talking about. Freaking Malfoy."

"Yes, Harry, the Malfoy we all loathe and hate. The Malfoy who calls me a Mudblood – " Ron hissed at that "And intimidates and oppresses those he considers beneath him. The exact same Malfoy that tried to be-friend you and ended up loathing you as well."

"He only tried to be-friend me for reputation, you know that. Why are we even talking about this?"

"Because, you keep saying I'm defending him when I'm not! I'm as worried and preoccupied as you and I want to get to the bottom of this. But we cannot let our feelings get in the way of our judgement."

"This isn't about our feelings. I know what I saw and I know what I heard. These are the facts. Malfoy is up to something and he is most likely a Death Eater and we need to know if he can be dangerous. That is all there is to it, Hermione."

"Let's just leave it. It is late, I'm tired." It was Ron's turn to try and bring closure.

Hermione was tired as well, this conversation draining her. She looked at them, thinking about a reply but a sigh was all that left her mouth.

Truth is, she was worried. She was so worried… for everything. For Harry, for them, Dumbledore, Hogwarts. She was worried that the sky would fall over their heads and she was worried about her N.E.W.T.s. How could she be worried about that as well, was ludicrous, but she wouldn't be Hermione Granger otherwise. And now, there was a possibility that this Malfoy theory was actually right and that just didn't worry Hermione. It scared her. It scared that someone she knew – someone as old as she, a wizard and fellow classmate – could actually be on this obscure path. That someone could actually be capable of doing all those things Death Eaters were known to do; someone that shared the same classes as her. It was insane. Hogwarts was not safe anymore, that much she knew. With this new possibility of students turning Death Eaters, everything seemed so much more real. That wasn't supposed to happen, not here, in their safe heaven.

They strode in silence, headed for the stairs that led to their dormitories, each of them with their own thoughts about all that was discussed. Hermione knew that Harry would not back down on the matter and Ron, being his best mate, would be right alongside with him. She also knew their rivalry towards Malfoy was just one more reason for this crazy theory. Not that she didn't feel like a rival herself. She had already punched Malfoy once and slapped him as well, so, she wasn't exactly a saint when it came to judging him. But it was that stupid part of her, or in this case, she considered it to be stupid, that truly believed in innocent before proven guilty. Or, more so, that part of her that still had faith in humanity. People could not be that bad. The only person that could make her think otherwise would be Voldemort. Voldemort was so far gone, to the point of no return. Malfoy could not be in the same boat… He just couldn't.

"What if he is?" she whispered.

Harry and Ron turned to her, one foot on the first step of stairs.

"He's a student, no older than us. How can he be?"

"I don't know, Hermione…" Harry soften, himself, deep down, not wanting any of it to be true.

"We'll deal. We always do." Ron offered her a small, comforting smile.

She kept quiet and took a step towards them, following their lead, as they prepared for a restless sleep.

Hogwarts wasn't safe anymore and Malfoy could be very close to falling into a big, deep hole, but as long as she had them – as long as they were here with her – she would be fine. She would. She had to. As long as they were in her life, things would never get that dark. They would deal with this and they would be ok. Hogwarts would be safe again. Voldemort would be defeated and Draco Malfoy would see the light.

Hermione snickered at that.

Draco Malfoy seeing the light. Sooner she believed that aliens were real.

* * *

 **Aliens are real... right?**

 **Hope you liked it :) Have a wonderful day, wherever you are, even if you are in a galaxy far, far away!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! Here is another chapter! Just to make things clear, this IS a Draco/Hermione story, but I'm not going to bash Ron or write him like a silly nitwit. I like Ron, he is a sweetie. Yes, he sometimes can be a little hot headed, temperamental and have no table manners, but he really tries to be a good husband and he truly cares for Hermione. I'll try really hard not to make him a fool, although sometimes, he does that all by himself.**

 **Enjoy :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Year 2003, June  
The Weasley's Home**

Ron went ballistic. If Harry had used a considerable amount of foul language, Ron made use of some pretty vulgar and obscene verbs, not worthy of anyone's vocabulary. Hermione even struggled to understand some of them, some she had never heard before and she has dealt with a lot of profane language. But, it shouldn't really come as a surprise for her. Ron was short-tempered – a fault he was impressively improving since they started dating – hence the ground-breaking explosion upon hearing the latest news. Even now, as she brushed her teeth in their bedroom's bathroom, she could hear him ramble about in the room, the word "bloody" being repeated each new second. Ron was pissed off. Ron was extremely pissed off.

"Bloody git! Who the fuck does he think he is?"

Hermione quailed as she spit the remaining toothpaste out of her mouth, into the sink. This would go on and on, until Malfoy would finally be questioned for his intentions. And even after, she suspected Ron would always be on edge if Malfoy got accepted to work for the Ministry.

Dammit, Malfoy. You are not even here and you are already ruining everything.

She wiped her face and took a deep breath as she looked at herself in the mirror, of their new bathroom. They had moved after the honeymoon, their belongings already in place, thanks to the help of Godmother Molly. Their house wasn't big but it was cosy and warm, their salaries not allowing anything extravagant. Hermione quite liked it. It wasn't far from Harry and Ginny's place and it had a nice back garden, where Ron kept imagining his children running around. Yes, they were the new, happy couple with vast plans for the future.

She took a once over at her reflection and prepared to use her poker face. After her almost slip with Ginny and her little hyperventilating session in her office, Hermione knew she had to step up her game. She needed to pretend like she was Ok with this, but that she was just a little annoyed really. She had to show everyone that her biggest desire wasn't to run for the hills every time she heard the name Malfoy. She had to show them she was worried, but unaffected. She had to make them believe she was truly fine with it, as long as Malfoy kept his distance.

Yes, she could do this.

One deep breath and she exited the bathroom, finding her husband already in bed, rambling on about this evening's dinner. It had been a nice dinner at first. Ginny made Ron's favourite dish, which he proceed to eat, trying his best to keep his mouth closed, as Hermione had instructed him. Harry told them all about his trip to Sweden, how he managed to capture a former Death Eater that was in hiding and how he joked Lupin for his disastrous attempt at flirting with one of the hotel's maids:

"He has been out of the game for too long. He needs serious help!"

That got a few rounds of laughter.

Then Ron and Hermione proceed to explain how was the honeymoon, Ron giving up some unnecessary, extra details that made Hermione grow red with embarrassment. Honestly, this man had to learn to keep his mouth shut sometimes. Overall it was a really nice, normal dinner and Hermione felt relaxed and peaceful for the first time in months. That is, until Harry decided to turn the conversation to a more serious tone and even pudding seemed to get sour.

"Death Eater gatherings…" Ron mumbled, irritated "Death Eater gatherings my ass! There has been no such thing. The Auror Department is well on top of every situation."

"I find it hard to believe as well." Hermione replied, getting into her side of the bed.

"It's a lie, a lie I tell you. Malfoy just wants to get under Kingsley good graces. Well if he is expecting that we forget all about what happened, he is fucking wrong."

"Ron, we don't know what happened. He's been gone for years."

"He tried to kill Dumbledore! Isn't that more than enough?"

Hermione inwardly cringed at the memory. Yes, it is more than enough. It is appalling. And she knew no one would ever really forgive him for that. She herself, had trouble forgiving him for that, not sure if she ever did or will.

"He is up to something."

"Well if he is, we'll only know two days from now, so you getting worked up is pointless." She said.

"He disgusts me." Ron seethed through his teeth.

Hermione put one hand on his shoulder, trying to sooth him. From the three of them, Ron was always the one that had it more difficult when it came to dealing with Malfoy. Part of him really felt some kind of inferiority, knowing Malfoy didn't hate him for being the Boy-Who-Lived or for being Muggle Born. No, Malfoy didn't hate him. Malfoy pitied him and mocked him. Malfoy thought he was an idiot and a poor excuse for a Wizard. That really pushed Ron over the edge, feeling like he was a joke to other Wizards and that his family would never be seen as one of the "good ones". Hermione could care less about any of that, really. Family status and blood status not meaning anything to her, but to Ron, it meant something, even if he would never admit to it.

He seemed to relax a bit at her touch and scooted her closer to him, putting his arm around her. He found it hard to believe, sometimes, that he was finally here with her, happily married and in their own house. Sometimes he felt like he was dreaming, like this couldn't be real. He had always felt something for her, even when they would bicker and argue and she would annoy him and he would exasperate her. To know that she felt the same way and that she had accepted to be his wife was one of the best things he could have ever hoped for. He Ron Weasley, had married the love of his life and she was this amazing, beautiful witch. He couldn't have asked for more.

"You are right… It's pointless." He gave in, embracing her and relaxing.

Hermione hummed contently, resting her head in her husband's chest, trying really hard to stop all these thoughts from overflowing her brain. If the information Malfoy claimed to have were to be true, the former Slytherin would be the least of their problems. At least, that is what she kept telling herself.

"How was your first day back?"

"Boring. A stack of papers was awaiting for me. Nothing too exciting." She answered, her eyelids feeling heavy.

"How come you are this tired, then?" He asked, lightly caressing her untamed hair.

"Guess I'm still weary from the trip."

"Oh? So, no weary activities tonight then?"

Her prudish side was kind of taking over today and she couldn't help but blush at the bold suggestion.

"Not tonight, sorry."

"Well, tomorrow then. That garden has to have some occupants."

She sighed. As much as she had always imagined having a big family, since she sometimes felt lonely with being an only child, Hermione still didn't see kids in their nearby future. Ron was so enthusiastic about it, he proved it well on their honeymoon, but for Hermione, it was still too soon. And as much as she told him to slow down and take it easy, she might as well be talking to a brick wall.

Also, she was simply not in the mood tonight. She had a faint idea why, but she blocked it all out.

"Ron, we already discussed this thousands of times…"

"I know, I know. It's just… it's our house now. You are my wife. We have the miracle of a steady pay check. Why not?"

"Because, I'm not ready."

"Since when do you have to be ready? It's the future Hermione. It's the natural, next step."

Ronald Weasley clearly didn't understand much about women. Hermione knew this and tried to educate him in the subject the best she could. Ron always took a hard time understanding the opposite gender, sometimes acting completely clueless. He tried his best, thanks to Hermione's helpful suggestions, but sometimes, his mouth spoke earlier then his brain.

"I'm not saying it isn't, I'm just saying I feel like it's still too soon. There is still plenty I want to do first."

"Like what? Voldemort's dead, we are happy, the Ministry is happy, Harry is happy. This is the perfect time."

"For Merlin's sake Ronald! How many times must we talk about this? I already gave you plenty of reasons and explanations. Please respect my wishes." She argued, lifting her head up to face him.

Ron has been talking about having children since he and Hermione first started dating. At first, she thought it was cute and kind of flattering, to know a man wanted to build a family with her. That he had chosen her to be the mother of his children. Then it started to scare her a bit, because unlike most witches, Hermione did not see herself in that sort of womanly fashion, performing housewife duties and mothering a bunch of babies. Yes, she wanted a family, but she also wanted to leave her mark in the world. Do something to make her children proud of her. Ron claimed she had already accomplished most of that, with saving the world and all, but Hermione felt like she was not done. She could still be useful, she could still change something. And a baby was a lot right now. So she had asked him to wait. Wait until they were settled, comfortable. Wait until she was ready. Ron maybe thought that being ready, was something so natural and ordinary for women, that he didn't grasp the concept and continued to persuade her. Luckily, none of this was discussed during their honeymoon, since he was too busy actually enjoying her and their time, without trying to turn their lovemaking into a fertility project. If that had been the case, Hermione would have, no doubt, cut the trip short. Just as she was currently cutting this conversation.

"Fine, I'm sorry. Don't get upset." He said, averting her eyes.

She kept looking at him, challenging him to say something else, but he knew better than to pester her, especially on this matter, so he kept quiet and waited until she again nested herself in his chest, to relax and take hold of her again. He let it go, for the time being, not really understanding why she was so adamant when it came to this topic. She had already confessed she wanted a family and he wanted nothing more than his own, personal Quidditch team, filled with little red-head Weasleys. So what was stopping her? What was so important that they had to put their future on hold? Was she having second thoughts about his? He heard sometimes that happened, after people got married. Ron shook his head. Nah. He was being ridiculous, letting his insecurity trait get the best of him. Hermione loved him. She was here, with him, in his arms and nowhere else. And he supposed that had to be enough, for now. She would come around.

He took one last peek at his new wife, who appeared to be falling asleep and gave her a sweet kiss on the top of her head. Smiling to himself, he closed his eyes and snuggled her closer. Yes, she would come around. Right now it was just them and that was fine.

* * *

She was having trouble sleeping. She kept dreaming about things she shouldn't be dreaming about, things that she kept well hidden in her mind. It had been like this for the past few days, ever since she had gotten that damn note on her wedding day. The only time she was able to sleep ok, was when the honeymoon activities got so deliciously exhausting, but even then, she would wake up and feel like crap.

Hermione opened her eyes, slowly adjusting them in the dark and took a peek at her digital alarm clock – she insisted in having one, considering it was important for her to keep using some muggle appliances. It read 4:32 a.m. She had been trying to go back to sleep for the last hour, her mission turning up unsuccessful. Somewhere in the middle of all her fidgety slumber, she had unlinked herself from Ron's body, which now had his back turned to her and was snoring softly. You would have figured that Ron would have a loud snore, but Hermione suspected he did something about that, after the very first nights they spent together. She would look like shit in morning, a consequence from the lack of sleep, do to all the noise and he decided to have mercy on her, thank Merlin.

She groaned, wanting nothing more than to have some very well deserved rest, but her mind kept playing tricks on her. As much as she told herself not to worry and to avoid thinking about it, her brain was against her. And it was during the night, when everything seem quiet, that it would come out and play. So she laid there, facing the ceiling, arms by her sides, trying her best not to think about anything and wait for sleep to come, but it was no avail. Draco Malfoy was coming back and she had to deal with it, sooner or later.

Why? Why did he come back? Why, after all this time? Why?

She was over it. She had convinced herself of that. Years had gone by and she hadn't heard a single word from him. Nothing at all. Years had gone by and her life was different. She was different. Everything was different. He had gone and left and she started over. And here she was, prepared to actually start over, prepared for this bright, new future, and that insufferable, annoying son of a bitch, decided to appear, out of the blue and turn her perfectly calculated, new life upside down.

Why, Merlin, why?

When Ginny had told her, she almost couldn't believe it. She wanted not to believe. But then it all made sense. The note. That fucking note.

Hermione cursed inwardly, admitting her husband was to blame for her new form of expressing herself when angered. She was never one to curse much, but after spending nearly 13 years around Ron, his cursing status actually got to her and she herself, made use of it once in a while, when she was truly upset.

Cursing or no cursing, it all started with that damn note. And as she laid here, next to her husband, Hermione couldn't help but to feel guilty about what happened in the moment she read the note.

She faltered.

She had honestly second doubted herself and her decision and her choices, all because of one silly parchment that came from the one person she wanted gone from her life. How did he manage to do this? How can he still have all this power over her, even in Merlin knows where? How can she still be so damn affected by Draco freaking Malfoy? And how was that even fair to Ron, to her friends and family, to her? And what kind of note was that?

 _'_ _Don't do it.'_

Don't do what? Move on? Get married? Be happy? Live her life? What did he mean by it? And why hadn't he come see her or talk to her? He had the arrogance of sending a stupid note.

Hermione buried her face in her hands. What was she saying! Of course she doesn't want him to come see her or talk to her. It was her bloody wedding! It was the happiest day of her life and nothing he could have done or said, would change that fact. What had happened between them was long past and after it all ended, rather badly she must admit, the last thing she wanted was for him to be in her presence again. Draco Malfoy could sod off and die for all she cared.

She couldn't help but wince at the latter statement.

No. That wasn't the truth either. She may not admit it to anyone, but she couldn't lie to herself. She did care if he died. She did care that he had gone for years and years, without so much as a goodbye. And she did care that he had send her an injudicious note. And she would care when she saw him at the interrogation. Truth is, she cared. And she wasn't proud of that. She was sort of repulsed by it. She was repulsed to think about this, when her husband was sleeping right next to her. She was repulsed with it all, she was repulsed with herself. Hermione Granger was repulsed with the world and no one was to blame but herself and Draco Malfoy.

What would she say when she saw him? What would he say to her? Would she make a fool out of herself? Would he make some kind of scene? Would he even show up? Was he doing all this just to be cruel? Did he plan on doing something against her? Maybe tell everybody the truth? Tell every single person she knew, that she had involved herself with Draco Malfoy? Maybe that was his plan… To punish her. To penalize her for going ahead with her wedding, with her life. Or maybe, he was actually telling the truth and wanted to do something good. And what about Astoria? Or his family? Hermione knew that Lucius and Narcissa were alive and well, still living in Malfoy Manor, but it has been a long time since she had heard anything concrete about them. Did they know their son was back? Was Lucius somehow involved in these supposed gatherings? No. The Ministry would know that. So, why was Malfoy back? And where had he been? What happened? What is happening?

Merlin, she was getting so frustrated.

She took a glimpse at Ron, who was still sleeping soundly, oblivious to his wife's restlessness and tried to calm herself down for what seemed like the billionth time since she had heard the news about Draco Malfoy's return. She had to be strong about this. If Malfoy truly wanted to do something against her, she wouldn't go down without a fight. If he truly wanted to defame her, she would be ready for it. She was Hermione Granger and she would not be beaten that easily.

She took one more glance at Ron, thinking about all the possible scenarios. It would devastate him. It would kill him. She didn't want to imagine the look on his face if he knew that his wife had involved herself with the one person he loathed the most.

It was a one time thing, she could say.

Except it wasn't.

She wasn't thinking clearly, she was lonely and scared and they were gone.

All of it was true, but how she managed to find comfort in someone like Malfoy, was something they would never understand. It was something she didn't understand herself. But it happened. And she swore that no one would ever know about it. And now she was married to Ron and Harry was married to Ginny and the War was over and they had so many things to look forward too. Draco Malfoy was not supposed to be a part of it.

She tentatively closed her eyes, forcing her mind to shut down once again and try to sleep.

Two days.

Just two more days and all of her questions would be answered. And it could go both ways: he could ignore her and her life would continue as usual, or he could do or say something that would provoke an earthquake and her life would fill with cracks and fissures that would swallow her whole. And honestly, it was nothing she hasn't dealt with before, right? She would deal, like she always did. She had to.

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 **Thank-you for reading :) What did you think? Do you think Ron came out as the ugly, loser duckling in all of this? Or did I manage to keep him a bit swany like haha? :P  
**

 **Hope you are having a wonderful day, wherever you are!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Update day! Thank-you all for the lovely reviews, truly! It gives me so much encouragement. I'm so happy to see you enjoying this story. It makes my day, every time. Thank-you! :)**

 **Three things first:  
I forgot to mention in the previous chapter that since this is AR, Lupin did not die in the battle of Hogwarts. Tonks did, but I like Lupin too much to see him gone. And it will be interesting to see how it will all play out later, regarding Lupin and the death of his wife.  
Au contraire to what happened in the books, Hermione did not join Harry or Ron in their Horcrux quest and stayed at Hogwarts during their seventh year.  
Also, this chapter is a bit longer than the others and I tried to write it in a way that would kind of portray the confusion that is Draco's mind at this point.**

 **Ok, on with the story!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

 **Year 1997, October  
The Astronomy Tower**

He had no idea why he kept coming back here. He had no idea why he insisted in coming back to the place where everything changed for him. This place, the place that became inscribed in his history as the place where he came close to murdering someone. The place that watched him be a coward, like he always had been his entire life. The place where he shed tears of guilt and fear. The place where Dumbledore had died, where Snape had killed him.

This place. He hated this place.

And yet, he kept coming back, every night, since he was accepted back.

He would come here, look around, sit in a corner and think. Think about life, think about death. He would just come here, at night, when everyone else was safely tucked away in their dormitories, away from the Carrows' atrocities; away from the harsh and dark reality Hogwarts was in right now. And most of it was his fault. It was his fucking fault and he knew that. He fucking knew it.

Draco Malfoy was to blame and for the first time in his life, he cared.

And he regretted it. Regretted all of it.

If only there was a chance to turn back time, he would take it in a heartbeat.

He had wanted the Dark Mark.

He snickered sarcastically.

Merlin, he was a fool.

For the longest time, Draco had ambitioned to be just like his father. He would come home and try to impress Lucius in every way that he possibly could. He would try to fly higher on his broom. He would read thick, long books to prove his intellectuality. He would cast annoying, little spells that drove other people crazy, just to prove he could. He even tried to be-friend Harry Potter, when all he wanted was to have one real friend in school. But he was in Slytherin. Slytherins didn't have friends.

His father had always told him that there was no such thing as friends. People are meant to be used and not meant to be trusted. You take advantage of them, just like taking candy from a shop and when you are done, off to the dustbin with them.

So, he did just that. All of that to make his father proud, because he wanted to be just like him when he grew up. And when the Dark Lord demanded Draco to step in, to take the place of his father and try to bring back the good Malfoy reputation, he was only too happy to oblige and prove himself once more.

Look at me now, father. I'm right where I should be: in your place.

Draco had finally become Lucius himself. And for the longest time, he obliviously had no idea of the implications of such transformation. His only focus was on the task he was handed. He had to find a way to let the Death Eaters into the school and he had to kill one of the few men who had actually been kind towards him, Albus Dumbledore.

And Draco took this task, without question and without any hesitation. He was, after all, proud of himself for accomplishing all of these things and was sure his father would be proud of him as well. Even being locked away in Azkaban, his father would know about this.

The day he took the Mark was actually a blur. Draco didn't know why that was. Supposedly, in life, when you have these big, life-changing moments, you remember them as if it were yesterday. They get carved in your skin, – in this case, literally – they get carved in your soul, in your mind, in your existence. Taking the Mark and ascending to a higher level of being was a memory Draco should be able to access perfectly, a memory he should be able to relive with ease, like a film flashing rapidly through his eyes. But that wasn't the case.

He remembers coming in the presence of the Dark Lord, leaving his mother to weep in a corner at Malfoy Manor. He remembers how he got there, remembers what the Dark Lord had said and remembers Voldemort taking out his wand and pointing it at his forearm. And after that, blurriness. He vaguely recalls pain and screaming and laughter. He recalls a celebration and Muggles being executed and he was laughing and clapping. He remembers seeing Bellatrix kill off a girl. He remembers someone asking about his father, if he was enjoying prison.

But it was all so blurry.

He did not remember how he got home or how he collapsed in his bed, exhausted. He thinks his mother was there, tucking him in, like a child, tears still fresh on her face, but he wasn't certain. And when he woke up the next day and looked at his arm, he felt pride. Draco Malfoy had gotten the Dark Mark and he was so proud.

Merlin, he was a fucking fool.

And now here he was, just months after that fateful night, the mark on his arm contrasting with the paleness of his skin and the brightness of the moonlight and he was no close to pride. He was not close to anything. He felt lost, lost in all of it. Maybe that is why he kept coming back, because this may be the only place where he knows exactly where he is. He knows exactly what happened here and knows exactly what he felt; the one place where everything doesn't feel like a blur. Here, in this Astronomy Tower, where Albus Dumbledore was killed. Here, he felt like he belonged. This was his place. This was where it all changed, so here was where he was meant to be. Not in the Great Hall, dinning with his fellow classmates; not in the Manor with a mother who wouldn't even look at him straight in the face. Not in the dungeons, absently shagging some Prefect. Not with Snape, or with Voldemort. Here, on this tower, is where he belongs. Here, in this turmoil of events, in this lingo, in this non-existence. Here, in a place he hates, this is where he belongs.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall against the wall behind him. What would his father say if he saw him now? What would he say? Probably give him a beating, curse him a couple of times and rage on about him being a disgrace, a shame to the Malfoy name.

Well, I'm sorry for that father. I'm a humiliation, but that doesn't change the fact that you are still rotting in Azkaban. Maybe that is where I should be as well. It's too nice out here. At least here I can breathe. And I don't really deserve to do that, now do I?

Snape was the one that told him he had to step it up, if he wanted to keep from being killed. After Draco's poor performance during his mission, Snape had taken him back to the Manor, where his mother was awaiting, in tears. Narcissa seemed to always cry a lot during those times. She wept continuously for hours on end, pleading someone to give her back her son.

"I'm right here, Mother." Draco would reply.

Narcissa would just sob harder.

And as Severus Snape took him up to his room, as a father would do to a child that had misbehaved (a normal father, at least), Draco began to finally acknowledge the severity of his actions. It was like a light bulb finally switching in his brain. Kind of comedic, really, if you are into dark comedy.

"I don't have much time Draco, since I have to go clean up the mess you made." Snape's tone was harsh. "From this point on, things are going to change. Everything about the Wizarding World as you know it, will change, do you understand? Everything in your life is about to change. I need you to man up and deal with it."

Draco could only nod, as he looked back at his favourite professor.

"I'm serious, Draco. You need to step up your game. The Dark Lord will not be pleased about this and you will have to deal with the consequences."

Another nod from the blonde boy.

"Good. Now, I'll be back."

Snape turned around and headed for the door, only to be stopped by a weary whisper that resembled the voice of a lost child.

"Am I… Am I going to die?"

Snape had his hand on the door handle, his back still turned, trying to remain his composure.

Draco Malfoy was scared.

Draco Malfoy was terrified and sounded like he was about to wet his pants. He had failed this mission, he had failed the Dark Lord. Once more, Draco Malfoy had been a coward.

And Voldemort feasted on cowards.

Snape did not know if the boy would live. All he could do was try to keep him alive, for now. So he told him the only thing he was certain off:

"Not if I can prevent it, no."

Silence.

"Wait for me here."

And with that, Snape was gone.

Draco did not know how much time he stood there, in the middle of his own room, with no other option but to wait. Wait to die, wait to live, wait for an absolution, that he knew would never come. But he waited. He waited for what seemed like hours, days, months, but he waited. And as he waited, he finally understood why his mother kept sobbing.

He had finally turned into Lucius and Narcissa was grieving the loss of her son.

Tragic.

In the end, he didn't die. He was punished. He was severely punished. But he took it all, trying to keep his head high. All these years living under Lucius roof had taught him a thing or two about pain – physically and psychologically. So, when the various Cruciatus came, he was no foreign to them.

Voldemort was fuming, accusing him of being just like his father. Well, wasn't that something he should be proud of? Wasn't that something Draco should be proud of? He had finally transformed into his father. Oh, the joy!

Afterwards, he was allowed to return to Hogwarts.

He wasn't a fool. He knew he only came back, because Snape wanted him here. He wanted him near, so he could protect him. Draco knew about this. If it were for McGonagall, he would have been locked up in Azkaban, right by his father's side.

He was allowed to return, but he was still a Death Eater. He still had obligations. His Dark Mark felt heavier and heavier, every time he was remembered of that fact. Snape had warned him and since he was back, he had been training. He had to train in order to become better. He had to become better, or he would be dead by now. He had to learn how to hide his emotions and how to read other people's, something he was fairly good at. And during all of that, Snape kept his manta going:

"Step up your game, Draco. The time to be a coward has ended. Fail this and you die."

Draco Malfoy stopped being a coward, the day Albus Dumbledore had been murdered.

His fellow Slytherins welcomed him with open arms, like a war hero. They didn't judge his last minute weakness and instead, asked him to show his Mark, so they could all see it, like some kind of trophy. Still, there were some of them weren't that pleased and some even mocked him for his cowardly actions, but most of them saw a role-model in Draco. And whereas, some years ago, that would have made Draco gloat with pride, right now, it wasn't that appealing. No, it was horrifying. How can someone aspire to affiliate themselves with Voldemort? They were fucking insane.

Never the less, the same had happened to him, so, Draco wasn't in a position to judge.

He played along, feigning pride and contentment. This only seemed to anger the other houses even more. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, they all despised him. But they were too scared, to even come near him, noting perfectly well he was now Snape's protégé and the Carrows' favourite pupil.

Draco Malfoy was untouchable. He had destroyed Hogwarts and nobody could do anything about it.

So, if all of this was true; if all of this was the harsh reality of the situation, why did Malfoy insist on coming back here?

He should be down there, stepping up his game, shinning in all his glory, basketing in the fruits of his own hard labour. Instead, he was up here, thinking about it all, with no clear solution in sight. He was up here, wishing he could take it all back. Wishing he could just claw away at that stupid mark, the same Mark that branded him as an idiot and doomed man.

Are you proud, father? I bet you are.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Draco woke up from his thoughts and he opened his grey eyes, only to be met with a pair of fiery brown ones.

"Granger."

There, right in front of him, in the place where everything changed, stood Hermione Granger.

She didn't say anything for the longest time, standing there, taking him in. Draco held eye contact and waited for the usual quarrelling and accusations. Now that the Potter and Weasel were gone, off to Merlin knows where, he had been seeing a lot of the small, brown haired witch. If he hadn't known any better, he would say she was spying on him. Maybe she was. Who knew? If that was the case, he had to tell Snape about it.

But this didn't seem like a bad spying act from Granger's behalf. This was coincidental. What she was doing here, he had no clue.

"You've got some nerve, showing up here today." She spat, her hands tensing into small fists.

Today? What? Draco had no idea what she was on about.

"Fuck off, Granger."

If there was someone he hated more than anyone in this world, more than Saint Potter, that someone had to be Hermione Granger.

The fact that she was a Mudblood was only the beginning. Her heritage was just the tip of the iceberg. The fact that she was a Mudblood, but did not live down to their standards, infuriated him. She was supposed to be this filthy, dumb, ugly girl. She was the reason the Wizarding World became, what it became: weak, powerless, deviant. People like her were the reason for it all. But the problem was, Hermione Granger was not filthy, or dumb or even ugly. She stroll around with pride and she was considered the brightest witch of their generation. And the fact that she had grown into a seemingly attractive female, had not been indifferent to Draco. How can someone, which is meant to be dirt, walk so high up in the sky?

He hated her for it. She confused him. She wasn't, at all, what his father taught him Mudbloods would be. And he found that baffling as hell.

In their first years, Draco decided it was best to just ignore her. Taunt her about her heritage, put her in the right place. But as they grew, he noticed she would not be put down. She refused it and she fought against it, hard. And as he began to watch her, he wanted nothing more than to destroy her. Cease this foolish nonsense of a Mudblood trying to act like a Pureblood.

He observed her at lunch hour, at classes. He took mental notes on how she acted, how she talked, how she looked. How she would help Potter study in the library, how she would scold the Weasel like he was a child. And they would let her. They let a Mudblood dictate all the rules and that was just not right. Since when was that normal?

Draco remembered it clearly when she punched him. Worse than hurting his nose, she hurt his pride. Lucius never knew about that, Draco was too ashamed to even think about it himself. And the slap during their Fifth Year, in front of the whole Great Hall. He never did get her back for that. And he doesn't know why. He should have. He should have done something. He should have put her in her place, right below him, where she belonged. And he also remembered, that when he thought about that, other images came to his mind. Images that repulsed him even more. Images he was mortified to even think about in the first place. Images his father would slaughter him for. Images he had expelled quickly from his mind, blaming them on bloody teenage hormones.

He had lost his virginity to Pansy shortly after that.

Thoughts like those never crossed his mind again, his sixth year being tough. He hardly had any time to think about anything, much less about the filthy, little Mudblood that he was meant to detest. He was a man on a mission, so proud of the Mark on his forearm.

He heard later that she attended the funeral, naturally, but she didn't cry. That confused him. He had wanted to know why, but had no way of knowing. At the time, it made him even angrier at her. She was supposed to cry. It was mainly his fault. Him, Draco Malfoy, the Pureblood.

She should cry, she should hurt.

And now, here she stands, hovering over him. And here he is, brooding and regretting, in this place that changed everything. A bit ironic, really.

Here he was, wishing he was dead and here she was, breathing freely. How could that be fair? She is something that is so wrong, she shouldn't even be alive. And he just wanted her to fuck off, to leave him alone. He didn't want to deal with her, she messed too much with his head.

So yes, Granger, please fuck off.

Hermione kept looking at him, but when he shuffled slightly her gaze lowered to the ugly, despicable Mark on his forearm. It seemed to mock her, its skull looking directly at her, like it was daring her to disturb it. And if she did, she might end up having the same fate as the man that died here.

"Have you no shame? Are you truly this appalling, Malfoy?"

Malfoy followed her gaze, deciphering what she was looking at. She was looking at the bane of his existence. Not that she knew that, of course. No one could ever know that.

When he didn't reply, she just continued.

"Why are you here?"

Fuck knows why, Granger.

"For the last time, just fuck off and leave me alone."

"Get out of here."

"Or what, Granger? This is a public space, I can be here if I want."

"You are disgusting, Malfoy."

She turned around to reach the nearer end of the small balcony. Only then did he notice the single white rose she was holding. As she edged the ledge, she took the rose and placed it by its wall. She remained silent for a while after that, her head bowed, like she was praying. She probably was.

Malfoy didn't know much about praying, but he knew it was something Muggles did when tragedy stroke. Then, what she had said in the beginning made sense. Maybe today marked something. Something that this tower was well known for.

Well, that was just jolly.

Here he was, contemplating all of his mistakes and acknowledging the fact that this tower changed his life forever and he didn't even know the exact date it all happened. Fucking pathetic.

Hermione seemed to finish her prayer and turned her gaze to Malfoy once more. He remained in that same spot, observing her. She noticed that something wasn't quite right. He seemed… older. And gloomier.

After what happened, Hermione's perspective on the paradox that was Draco Malfoy changed radically. She no longer saw him as the weeping, arrogant, cowardly boy that thought himself superior to everyone else. Oh no. When she looked at Draco Malfoy, all she saw was pity and repulsion.

She hated him with every fibre of her being. Why he was still alive, was a mystery to her. She knew Snape was behind it, but she didn't want to think about Snape right now. Every time she thought about him, she imagined him dead, in a pool of his own blood. So, to be in the mere presence of Malfoy, nauseated her. How can someone be this vile? How could she have been so daft, back in their sixth year, when Harry had insisted he was, in fact, a Death Eater? She felt so angry at herself for, even once, contemplating that Draco Malfoy was innocent; that he was nothing more than a bully.

Oh, how wrong she was.

"Are you just going to stare at me all night, Mudblood?"

That word.

The most dreadful word she had ever heard.

That word.

The word that had the power to completely shut her down, to make her blood boil, to make her capable of murder. The word that categorized her into nothing, a word that meant to hurt. A word that was invented just to injure someone. A word which solo purpose was to burn and damage all those who heard it.

This word.

 _Mudblood._

The word he addressed her with only so often, the word he was not ashamed of using.

This word.

This word is what made the gap between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy even larger. All this hatred, all this war… all of these, just because of this fucking word. And he was the reason she had learned that word. He had taught her that word, the word that would forever be carved in her skin.

"Don't call me that, Malfoy."

"Why? It is, what it is." He said, pulling himself on his feet. He was taller. Had he grown?

"You really have no morals, have you? How do you even live with yourself, after all you've done? How can you even show your face?" Hermione pressed on, trying not to feel intimidated as he came closer to her. Draco Malfoy was a coward, remember that. "How can you sit there, in the place where –"

"Where what, Granger? Where I drew my wand at that pathetic, old man?"

"How dare you!" Hermione was outraged.

"So he died. Big loss for your side, I must say. I don't see why I can't go where I well please, just because of that fact."

"I can't even stand to look at you, Malfoy. How can you be so damn revolting?" How could she ever think he was innocent? Oh Merlin, how!

"You keep asking how this and how that, Granger, but truthfully, I don't give a fuck. I'll do what I want, when I want and that is nothing of your business. Now, do us both a favour and fuck off, like I told you too."

He walked passed her and went to stand near the ledge. Inwardly, he was mentally screaming at her to just go away.

Just go. Just leave me. This is my place, not yours. I belong here, you don't. Just fucking go.

"You really feel no remorse at all, do you?"

I do.

Oh, Granger, you have no idea how much.

"Why should I? I didn't kill him." Yes. Keep the act. Step up your game.

"But you wanted to, didn't you?" Hermione kept looking at his back, trying to shake off her anger.

He acted as though he didn't hear her.

"You did, didn't you, Malfoy? So, what stopped you?" Hermione had always wondered "Was it fear? Was it guilt? Too much of a coward to actually go forward with the job? Were you waiting for Daddy to do it for you?"

And suddenly he turned around to face her.

His features were angry and he was fuming. He had drawn his wand and he was pointing it right at her.

Yes, here he was again, at this very tower, wand ready, pointing it at the Golden Trio's brightest member. Pointing it at the Mudblood, the epitome of everything that made his life so much more complicated. If there had been no Mudbloods in the first place, then Voldemort would have never went on a frenzy to kill them all. He would never have encountered Saint Fucking Potter and Saint Fucking Potter would have never survived an Avada. His father would have never joined the Death Eaters and he would not have been obliged to follow his footsteps.

Yes, they were to blame. All the Mudbloods. All the fucking Mudbloods and Blood-Traitors. Fuck Voldemort, fuck Potter, fuck Dumbledore, fuck the War. It was the Mudbloods. It was her. It was Granger.

Hermione froze right in her spot, caught off-guard. She made a move to get her wand –

"Don't even think about it, Mudblood."

She held her hand in mid-air, fear spreading through her body. His wand was pointed right at her. Ok, Hermione. Breathe. This is Malfoy. Remember. He barks a lot, but he doesn't bite.

Does he?

She remained still and silent. Her heart was beating so fast, but she wouldn't let it show. No, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Nice, little Granger. See, now this isn't so bad? This is how it is supposed to be. You'll do well to remember that. No matter how hard you try or study or try to associate yourself with people that you think equal to you, you will never be it. You'll always be dirty. And dirt gets stomped on. So be a good, little witch and give me a proper apology for wasting my precious time on this pointless conversation." He smiled evilly.

"You really like to hear yourself talk, don't you Malfoy?"

"It's an interesting pastime, yes."

"Well if you at least listened to what you say, you'd take notice of all the crap that comes out of your mouth."

"Careful, Granger. You are threading on thin waters here."

"I'm not scared of you, Malfoy."

"You should be, Granger. Everything is different now. Finally, the balance is going to be restored and filth like you will have the ending it deserves. Dumbledore and Hogwarts were just the beginning. The Dark Lord will crush your precious Order and Potter will be put down, as he should have been, all those years ago."

"You are wrong, Malfoy. Harry will win this. We will win this. You are completely delusional if you honestly believe otherwise."

"I'm delusional?" he asked with loud laugh. "Look around you Granger!" he signalled around him with his left hand "Here we stand, in the very same tower where the only wizard powerful enough to defeat the Dark Lord, died. He fucking perished, right here. And this castle you call Hogwarts? It is run by Death Eaters. Our numbers are superior, our magic is superior. We are fucking superior because – "

"You are not, in any way, superior to us, Malfoy! Not to me, not to anyone. Blood means nothing." She countered, her petite form starting to tremble with rage.

"Blood means everything." He growled.

"Harry will find the Horcruxes and we will defeat Voldemort. Good will overcome evil and – "

"Oh, for fucks sake, don't give me that cliché crap. Even you don't fucking believe in that."

"Yes, I do." Hermione was being honest. Yes, she did. She had to. Otherwise, she would not have the strength to go on.

"Your funeral, Granger."

She didn't notice, but he was much closer to her now. And she had, unconsciously, taken a few steps back and her back was almost at the far end of the balcony. His wand was still pointed straight at her; hers was still in her robes. He had her trapped.

"You want to know how this will all end, Granger? Want to know what is going to happen to dirt like you?" He kept walking towards her, his height towering over her. Hermione's heart started to beat faster, if possible. "Do you want to know, what I'm going to do to people like you? All you filthy, dirty Mudbloods?"

Draco was losing it.

He was so far gone right now. Everything was becoming blurry again. This place, this limbo, this non-existence was no more. He was wide awake now and completely out of his mind.

Here she was, right in front of him, confined to his presence. Here she was, Hermione Granger, the epitome. Here she was, looking up at him, a fearful stare in her features, as she backed herself up against a wall.

Wasn't it just perfect? This is how it's supposed to be. And oh, how it would be so easy, to just end her right here and now. To make her not breathe anymore, to make her not talk and say all of those wretched words at him. Words that cut him deeper than they should. Here she was, almost pressed up, beneath him, so dirty, so filthy, so beautiful.

 _sobeautiful._

And suddenly, those images he tried to repress long ago, were back. Images that would made his father sick. Images that made Draco sick. Sick with dread, with shame, with hate. Images that he vowed never to see again. Images that made him question almost everything about himself.

No. Not these images again. No. Not now.

Not when she was so deliciously scared. Not when he could prove to everyone he wasn't a coward. Not anymore. He could prove it. He could show it. Fuck all these thoughts about regrets and Dark Marks and Fathers and Voldemorts. Fuck it all. Here she was, at his mercy. Kill her. Kill her, Draco.

 _Kill her, Draco. Kill her._

Lucius voice was inside his head.

Are you watching father? Are you watching this?

His wand was suddenly at her throat and she yelped in surprise. Her hands came to his wrist to try to pry him off her, but he wouldn't budge. She thought about screaming, but she knew no one would hear her. She tried to scratch his wrist, but he was quicker, faster, stronger.

With his left hand he caught her own wrists and put them up against the wall, over her head. His Dark Mark was so close to her face. There it was again, that ugly skull, looking at her, mocking her, daring her.

This was it. He was going to kill her.

His body was flushed against her now, almost suffocating her with his presence. Her legs were trapped. She felt his breath right in her face, his grey, piercing eyes boring holes into her own. He was angry. He was fuming.

His wand buried itself deeper into her throat and she let out a small cry of pain.

This is it, Hermione. He is going to kill you. And no one was here to witness it. Harry, Ron, Lupin, Ginny, Neville… Oh, Merlin.

They stood like that for what seemed the longest time, staring at each other, waiting. She was waiting for death. And he was…

"What are you waiting for Malfoy? Do it." Maybe she had gone temporarily insane, instigating someone who had a wand at her neck. "Don't cower on me now, Malfoy. Do it." But she was Hermione Granger. She would not go down without a fight. "You said it yourself, right? I shouldn't be alive. I'm scum. I'm dirty. I'm the reason everything is messed up. Well, now is your chance to make things right. Do it."

His was breathing deeply, his eyes observing her face. She noticed then how crazy he seemed. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, probably from lack of sleep. His face looked thinner and paler. His eyes were rapidly searching all over her face and his mouth was open, teeth clenched, like an animal about to bite his pray.

Only Malfoy wasn't supposed to bite.

He wasn't.

He didn't.

Did he?

"Go on, Malfoy. Kill me. Kill this Mudblood. Learn how to bite."

And then something clicked. Something changed.

His eyes widen at her last remark, almost in surprise. He was looking down at her now, eyes wide, breathing laboured and she was trying hard to understand the change in his posture. His frown was gone and he was searching her eyes for something. Hermione kept her stance, challenging him. She was a fighter. She would not fear him. So she matched his gaze, daring him. Daring his Dark Mark.

Draco was, once again, battling with himself.

Fuck.

All he had wanted, was to come here and be alone. Come here and wallow and grieve and think about death. All he wanted was some kind of peace, not to exist, before he had to head back down and keep up his game. Before he had to deal with Snape's and Carrow's and Death Eaters. Before he had to suck up the vomit up his throat every time he watched Muggles being killed. Before he had to endure all that foolish talk his fellow Slytherins would have about Dark Lords and Mudbloods. Before he had to write to his mother, who never wrote back. Before he had to undergo Voldemort's wrath every time he was weak. Before he had to live his fucking excuse for a living.

And then she came along.

And here she was, right where those images had pictured her, right where she belonged, right at his mercy. His wand was at her throat and he was so close to just end it all. He had Hermione Granger scared and pinned to a wall and she was… telling him to bite her?

This was too much.

Too much. Too much.

 _Fucking kill her, Draco!_

Shut up, just shut up.

 _You fucking coward!_

I said shut up!

 _Kill this Mudblood! Kill all of them!_

SHUT UP!

"SHUT UP, FUCKING SHUT UP!"

His scream took her by surprise and it was her turn to widen her eyes. He was shaking now, his wand itching her neck. He had his eyes shut and he looked like he was mentally battling something. He was breathing rapidly and he kept repeating those two words, over and over again:

 _Shutupshutupfuckingshutupshutup_

She was unsure of what to do now. Something was off. He was talking with himself. Just saying those things, as if he was in a loop of some kind.

His hold on her had loosen and, yes, this was her chance.

Hermione took the opportunity to push him off her, using the weight of her body.

She found no resistance.

He let her hands go and his wand fell to the ground. She pushed passed him and drew her own wand, pointing it at him. Merlin, her palms were sweaty, her wrists ache. She was panting with adrenaline, the arm that was holding her wand shaking. She took in a deep breath, wanting to calm herself down.

Merlin, she was alive. She was alive. He had let her go. What had she said to make him change his mind? What happened?

Malfoy was still in the same spot, head down, muttering something, his wand on the ground next to him.

She thought about running. She thought about hexing him. How hard could it be to finish him off, right now, after all he has done? After all those horrible things he said to her. So many good people in this world were dying and this bastard was still alive and kicking. Oh, how it would be so easy.

Her arm trembled, her wand ready for action. You want to do it, Hermione. You want to do it so badly. That fucking bastard. What he was doing here in the first place, that is what baffled her. Today marked six months since Dumbledore's death. She came in ready to pay tribute to his memory, prepared to shed a few tears, away from everyone. She prepared herself for everything. But she had not prepared herself for this. To see Malfoy here, to have him talk to her – insult her, threatening her and almost ending her life.

She was thinking about all those things until she heard it and she thought she didn't. She thought she was imagining it.

There, in front of her, where he once sat, smirking, Draco Malfoy was now sobbing. He sobbed as he kept whispering and murmuring. His shoulders were shaking and he had buried his head between his hands. And like they do in films, his knees gave up and he fell to the ground, wrenching cries leaving his mouth. She noticed how one of his hands went to claw at this Mark, trying to scratch it off.

Hermione was at loss for words.

Draco Malfoy was crying right here, in the place where he nearly killed his Headmaster; in the place where he nearly killed her.

Draco Malfoy was crying.

And Hermione was torn.

Was he sorry? Did he regret it? Why was… What is happening?

She did not know what to think. She had once believed that he wasn't that for gone. That he wouldn't go down the dark path. She had once believed that people still have some good left in them.

She doesn't believe in that anymore, not after all that has happened, not after all she has seen.

But here she was, in front of someone she thought was lost. Someone who came close to ending her life. Someone she hated so much… And he was crying. He was weeping like a little boy. And somehow, that vision, this vision, gave her hope.

She then decided to flee, leave him be.

Run.

And that is what she did.

She ran, away from that tower, away from him. She ran until her lungs hurt, until she reached the safe haven of the Gryffindor's Common Room. She ran until she collapsed, back against the closed portrait. She ran until all the air got knocked out of her.

But she hadn't run because of fear or guilt. She hadn't run because she was scared of him, because he had been crying or because she pitied him. She hadn't run because of that.

She ran because he had given her hope.

And that shouldn't come from him.

And that scared her.

* * *

 **Thank-you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Do you think that Draco's messy thoughts and feelings were well portrayed here? Tell me what you think :)**

 **And keep having a wonderful day, wherever you are!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello my dears! Here's another chapter for you! Enjoy :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Year 2003, June  
The Ministry of Magic**

Hermione straightened up her pencil skirt for what seemed like the sixth time in the past half hour. She was currently sitting in a chair, by Kingsley's door office, awaiting his arrival. Her skirt seemed to have a life of its own when it came to getting wrinkled, despite her better efforts.

It was early, a bit too early and most of the staff would still be at home. But Hermione could not wait any longer. She had barely slept. After one more restless night and some careful thinking, she decided to make an early appearance at Kingsley's office, with a last minute request. She knew the request was a bit foolish, some would consider it suspicious even, but Hermione knew she was in the clear.

She had hoped to have missed Ron that morning, but luck was definitely not on her side. As she finished her breakfast quickly before heading out, Ron emerged from their room, still a little bit ruffled from his sleep but not enough to not notice that she had put on one of her best suits today.

"Where are you off to so early?"

Hermione turned around from the kitchen sink, where she was currently putting some dirty dishes and faced him with a small smile.

Ok, poker face.

"Good-morning! I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't wake me. I needed to get up anyway." He replied, coming closer her to her and giving her a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Where are you going at this hour?"

"To the office. Kingsley said he wanted to speak with me first thing in the morning."

Liar.

"What for?" he asked, reaching up behind her, to grab a mug from one of the cabinets.

"I have no idea." She answered, resuming the task of washing her own coffee mug.

Ron didn't retort, being too busy looking through the fridge for something to eat.

She kept her back to him, focusing on her task, as she scrubbed her mug harder than usual. Oh, Merlin. She felt awful, lying to him like this, but part of her knew it was necessary. She was protecting him. It would hurt him more if he knew, right? At least that is what she told herself.

Ron didn't need to know she was going in early to ask Kinglsey if she could witness the interrogation.

Since this had nothing to do with her department, Hermione had not been invited. At first she had felt a bit frustrated at this. She didn't work for the Auror's department, but she still fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and she still played a crucial role in defeating Voldemort. Also, they knew she had spent her Seventh Year at Hogwarts, where Malfoy had also been. But mainly, she had been tortured in Malfoy's home and she knew the Malfoys, almost too well. She was a main element in all of this, it was only right that she assisted the interrogation. How they did not even consider that option, infuriated her. So yes, she was going in early to talk to Kingsley.

Part of her was terrified for this. Her curiosity was the main reason she wanted to go to the interrogation in the first place, but she knew, that deep down, there were other reasons. And those reasons alarmed her, deeply. But she had to know why he was back. She had to know if his intentions were purely to aid the Ministry, or if there was something else.

It was that something else that petrified her.

She finished her washing and walked to the hallway to get her work robes and to take one last look at the mirror before heading out. She'd be lying to herself if she told herself she had not dressed more carefully today, picking up one of her favourite dress-suits and shoes. She had even added a little bit of make-up, something she usually decided to go without. However, she kept telling herself it was just to make a good impression on someone that used to mean something to you. That is all.

She did not dress pretty for Malfoy. She had stopped doing that, ever since the pumpkin juice incident. She had dressed pretty for herself, for her own confidence. That was it.

"I'm going now, Ron!" she said from the hallway, just as she'd finished buttoning up her robes.

"You look pretty today." He acknowledged, a small smile on his face, as he leaned against the kitchen doorway, coffee mug on this hand.

Merlin, if guilt could kill.

"Just today?" she asked, returning the smile and getting a bit of Floo powder from their stash.

"You always do. You are beautiful, Hermione."

Of all the days he would be extra-sweet with her, today had to be one of those days. Great. Hop on the guilt train to guilt town, Hermione.

"You don't look so bad yourself." She replied with a faint blush on her cheeks "You clearly need a shower, but other than that."

"But I did brush my teeth earlier, so, there's that." he laughed, getting closer to her.

"Hmm, I wonder why that is." She shorten the distance between them and gave him a kiss.

It was meant to be a short one, one of those goodbye kisses you give your husband before departing. But Ron was in a good mood today and rapidly took control, turning the simple kiss into something more heated. Why he was in a good mood, was a mystery to her, since this was the day he would be face to face with Malfoy again. Maybe he'd forgotten.

Her free hand came up to his neck and he used his own free hand to cup her bum through her robes. She liked it when they were like this, like any other young couple in love. She liked the feeling of him involving her in his arms and liked how his tongue would lovingly caress hers. Ron had taken a while to master the art of kissing, but he was fairly good at it now. Ok, so fairly was an understatement. He WAS good at it. Just like his fingers. Oh, Merlin, his –

Hermione cut the kiss short, wanting to regain some self-control. He reluctantly let go of her, a bit out of breath, a dopy grin on his lips.

"I really have to go."

"Fine, we can finish this later tonight." He said suggestively.

She flashed him a grin of her own and made her way to their fireplace.

"Ministry of Magic!"

And here she was, sitting on this dumpy, old chair, waiting for Kingsley, so she could make herself feel even guiltier about all that was happening. To busy herself while she waited and to get a break from her faulty thoughts, Hermione kept re-arranging her skirt, trying to get it to stay impeccable. The interrogation was due in an hour and her anxiety was becoming more noticeable. But she could do this. She could keep her composure. She could keep her posture. As long as this damn skirt would cooperate, dammit, why won't it stay like –

"Miss Granger."

Hermione looked up from her skirt, her reaction to her maiden name being immediate. Her marriage was something very recent and some employees and friends still referred to her as a Granger and not as a Weasley. She was fine with it, knowing it would take some time for people to actually acknowledge that she was a Weasley now. She, herself, was still processing that fact.

"Minister, good-morning."

"What are you doing here so early? Was there something you needed?" Kinsgley Shacklebolt asked as he unlocked the door to this office.

"Yes, sir. I need a word with you." She answered, getting up from the lousy chair and straightening her skirt, once again, in the process.

"Well, by all means." Kingsley opened the door for her, letting her go in first.

"Thank-you."

Hermione took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Kingsley's desk. Kingsley's office always charmed her. It was cosy and very orangey like. Unlike other Minister's before him, Kingsley made an effort to make the Ministry a welcoming place, instead of one that would intimidate you. His desk was full of contraptions and gadgets, some of them Hermione had no idea what they were for. He also had a small aquarium where he kept some gold fish. She found that a bit endearing, actually.

"So, what seems to be the issue?" He took a seat at his desk, slightly reclining in his chair.

"Well, sir. I… I want to know, why I wasn't invited to assist on the interrogation." Hermione knew it would be no use to beat around the bush, so she decided to go straight to the point.

Kinglsey looked at her and seemed to think for a moment before replying.

"I didn't know you had some interest in this. It really doesn't concern your department."

"I don't have an interest, per say, but it is Malfoy we are talking about. I want to know if what he is claiming is true."

"Miss Granger, first of all, I'm going to ignore the fact that you seem to know a lot about the subject of Mister Malfoy's interest in collaborating with the Ministry." Ups, sorry Gin… And Harry. "Secondly, as you understand, this is a matter of the up most secrecy. Naturally, we are keeping this information strictly with some professionals within the Auror Department."

"Sir, with all due respect, I may not be a part of that department, but I did play a crucial role in the last War." Hermione did not like being treated as a common plebe, just because she was no Auror. Her skills and intellect matched those of any Auror in that department and Kingsley knew this. "Also, let me remind you that I have a kind of, let's say, special relationship with the Malfoys, since you know, I was tortured in their house and all."

"I don't need any reminder of that, Hermione." More than the Minister of Magic, Kingsley was also a friend, so it hurt a little that he did not even wanted to tell her about this in the first place. He took a deep breath, before continuing "That is also one of the reasons I didn't tell you anything. You might not want to deal with all of this."

"I don't care about, Malfoy" Liar, again. "I just want to know if the information he is trying to sell is accurate. If it is, we need to prepare and figure out our next move."

"That is not your job, Miss Granger."

"I don't give a damn, Shacklebolt. You know exactly that if there is ever a need, I will jump into battle." She argued, the usage of his given name, proving she was getting upset.

Kingsley sighed.

Yes, he knew it very well. Hermione was a valuable asset and always has been. If it were up to him, she never would have went to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He'd very much preferred to see her work at the Department of Mysteries or Security. He knew that she was happy right where she was, but he also knew that if needed, she would offer her skills to any cause. Still, in this particular case, it really did not concern her.

"We do not know the severity of this matter. We know that there is a possibility that all of it can be true, but we won't know for certain until Malfoy speaks. Until then, all we can do is hope that none of it is happening, because if it is, it means we are not doing our jobs right."

"Yes, well…" she continued "I want to be there. I want to see the interrogation."

"Miss Granger…"

"Minister, I was face to face with Voldemort himself. I've had my share of battles with Death Eaters and I gave it my all to cease the War. I'm one of Harry Potter's best friends and I'm married to Ronald Weasley." She hated to play the friend and wife card, but desperate times, called for desperate matters "I have the same right to be there, like any one of them."

Kingsley knew there was no point in arguing with her. Hermione was an excellent professional and a good friend and he also knew, she was stubborn as hell. She would not let this go.

"Very well." He reluctantly agreed. "The interrogation will begin at 8 o'clock. It will be conducted by the Head of the Auror Office, Gawain Robards. I'll be present, such as Harry Potter and your husband. Lupin will also be there."

"Understood, sir. Thank-you."

"I really don't know what to expect, Hermione. Nobody has heard about Mister Malfoy in years. I don't know why he would come forward now." Kingsley said, absently scratching his non-existent subtle.

"Let's just hope."

* * *

Her skirt seemed to cooperate with her, at least for the time being. The skirt went just above her knee and she always had to be extra careful when sitting down, knowing the dangerous of an unkempt skirt, especially in her workplace. Hermione was no stranger to harassment, more now that the War was over and she was a popular War Hero, with a respectable career and friends in high places. She knew better than to let her skirt get the best of her, so she maintained constant vigilance. And right now, she would definitely benefit from her alert state.

The Interrogation room wasn't that big, but it was a tad intimidating. It had dark walls and floors and a single window to her back. It lacked any sort of ornaments, a single chair positioned in the centre of the room, facing a grand table, enough to fit six people: normally it would be two interrogators and four witnesses. She was currently sitting at the far end of the table. Right next to her was Lupin – thank Merlin, for that – and then Kingsley. Ron was at the other end, followed by Harry and Robards. They were surprised to see her but she easily dismissed their doubts with her story. Luckily Kingsley hadn't said anything to point the contrary, so she was off the hook… for now.

It was almost 8 o'clock and Malfoy was bound to walk through that door at any moment.

Hermione was already in poker face mode: calm and indifferent and a bit curious on the outside, screaming of agony and self-misery on the inside. Ok, maybe not so much, but still, she was anxious and nervous and worried.

What kind of questions would they ask? What was he going to say? Was it best if she avoided his eyes, or best if she faced them? Would he do something to hurt her? Had he grown? Had he gained weight? Was he still engaged? Had he married? And if he was married, how was that any of her business? Should she say something? Was her skirt still in place?

The door opened.

Hermione looked up from her unwrinkled skirt.

And there, after years since the day she had last seen him, Draco Malfoy was in front of her eyes again.

And her heart skipped a beat.

* * *

 **What do we say to the god of non cliff-hangers?**

 **Not today!**

 **(had to make this GOT reference haha!)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello again, my dears! Thank-you for reviewing, it makes me really happy and fuels my imagination! Also, I found out recently, as I was uploading this, that I can reply to reviews. Had no idea this was doable, my bad.**

 **Anyway, I enjoyed writing this one, always fun to write the 'nasty' characters ;)**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, not now, not ever.**

* * *

 **Year 1997, October  
The Dungeons**

Midnight was quickly approaching and Hermione had one final place to check before calling it a night. She had started rounds about an hour ago and sleep was beginning to get to her. Ever since she had been appointed Head Girl, she had learned a whole new meaning to the word exhausted. She was responsible for all the other prefects, responsible for their rotas, responsible for the other students, responsible for her own studies and she also had to keep an eye out for the Carrows and other suspicious activities that would lead to the injury or harm of her and other Muggleborns and Half-bloods. On top of that, she had promised Harry and Ron to keep an eye out for useful information that could be helpful to the Order. She also aided with some research at the library that would make the hunt for the damn Horcruxes slightly less complicated. Yes, exhausted was an understatement.

And on top of all that, she was angry. She was very angry.

After what happened last year, Harry and Ron decided to skip their seventh year to begin looking for the Horcruxes. And she had wanted to go with them. She truly did. But they did not agree with that.

"Why the hell not?" she had asked.

"Hermione, we need you at Hogwarts. There needs to be someone capable enough to help McGonagall prevent its dismay." Harry calmly explained "Besides, we will need all the information we can get about where Voldemort could have hidden the Horcruxes."

"And that is exactly why I need to go with you. You and I both know who's got the brain in our little group. You need me." She countered.

"And the other students need you more. Hogwarts needs you more. And you being made Head Girl is the living proof of that. You can still help us with research and information. You can still help the Order. It is not like you are just going to sit around on your butt."

Harry was trying to lighten the situation, but Hermione was having none of it. The three of them were currently sitting at The Leaky Cauldron, drinking a round of Butterbeer. The Pub was practically empty, not many wizards venturing to go outside after what happened. Voldemort was truly back and the change was tangible. And Hermione was feeling offended by all of this. They needed her and they wanted to leave her behind. She could not wrap her head around the situation.

She took a sip of her Butterbeer, not wanting to look at either of them.

"Hermione, please. Don't be upset." Ron pleaded, reaching for her hand across the table.

"I'm not upset. I'm dismayed at your doleful suggestion." She replied, taking another sip, a large frown across her features.

Ron looked at her inquisitively, not fully understanding some of her vocabulary, but she took him no mind and continued drinking her beer, almost hoping for the alcohol to dope her senses so she didn't have to feel so betrayed.

"Please understand. It will be dangerous, it will be –"

"I'm fully aware of the hazards Harry and I'm fully capable of handling myself." She furiously retorted, slamming the mug on the table.

"That is not what I mean..."

"What did you mean then? That I'm not as skilful as you? That I would slow you down? Hardly. I always came through and you know that. So if the problem is the danger of it, save me the condescending act. I know how it is. I've read the memo."

"I'm not saying you are not capable, Hermione! You are an amazing witch, a brilliant one! You are the brightest witch of our age and I will never question that." He clarified, looking at her pleadingly "And that is exactly why I need you at Hogwarts. I need to know what is happening over there and I need your help."

"You have Professor McGonagall for that. Let her be your spy." She said, not caring how immature she sounded.

"McGonagall will have a lot on her plate with Snape and the Carrows. We need someone near the other students, near the Slytherins, near Malfoy."

"I'm not going near Malfoy, Harry. Fucking forget it."

"I'm not asking you to be around him. I'm just asking you to keep an eye on things." He said, looking at her through his glasses "Please, Hermione. Please understand that."

"I don't want you near fucking Malfoy either, but if there is anyone who can stop something really bad from happening to the other students and Hogwarts, that someone is you." Ron complied.

Hermione looked at them fully. They were looking back at her, practically begging her to comprehend their vision.

In the long run, she knew they had a point. She could not deny how proud she felt when she knew she made Head Girl, even if it was just for a little while, before realizing how things would be completely different this year. Snape was Headmaster and the Carrows would be teaching there as well. Also, Malfoy had been allowed to return to the school and was still a fucking prefect. How was that even possible, Hermione had no idea, but she knew Hogwarts wasn't going to be the same and it pained her so much to know that.

Hogwarts was like home to her. It was a place that meant safety and magic and friends and light.

That place was now surrounded by darkness.

"Please?"

Harry pleaded with her again. She took a last sip of her drink before hesitantly nodding, coming to the conclusion that theirs minds were already made up, long ago. She agreed, but that didn't mean that she wasn't angry at them or that she would forgive them just as easily. She just agreed for the greater good in the greater scheme of things.

She was angry but, Merlin, she was going to miss them.

And that is exactly how she felt right now, patrolling these damn, cold dungeons.

She missed them, deeply.

She had received a letter from them this morning that quickly dissolved itself after she read it. Apparently, their task was turning out to be much harder than they thought and they had already been in immediate danger for about three times this past week. Merlin, why hadn't she gone with them? Instead she was stuck here, trying her best to protect who needed protection and researching insanely, trying to find out anything that would help them out there. Her mind was full of information, but none of it helpful enough. And on top of all that, there was Malfoy.

She scowled.

After what happened two weeks ago, at the Astronomy Tower, she almost never saw him. If she could make a guess, she would say that he was avoiding her. And avoiding other people in general. The only times she saw him was in class and he'd normally sit in the back, far away from her and everyone else or at prefect meetings, where he would usually group up with the other Slytherins who paid no mind to what she said. She was thankful for that. Every time she did see him her heart would leap fearfully and she would instinctively reach for her wand, not wanting to be caught unsurprised.

He had scared her. He had truly scared her. Malfoy had clearly changed and long gone was the boy she used to know. He had become something she didn't understand and Hermione hated not understanding things. But Malfoy had turned into somewhat of a puzzle, a dangerous puzzle and she did not wish to put the pieces together, even if her curiosity almost demanded it.

Curiosity killed the fucking cat, Hermione. Remember that.

And why had he broken down like that? Draco Malfoy crying. If she hadn't seen it herself, she would have never believed it. She knew he had sometimes been a pretty, cowardly, sissy boy, always threatening people, making use of this father status and name and, sometimes, he would sniffle a bit. But this time it was different. He was sobbing so hard, like he was in so much pain. And the mumbling… he was acting like a mad man. What happened to the proud Malfoy that would stroll these corridors head high, smirk on his face? Since the incident, he mostly kept to himself. She had seen him with the other Slytherins. His smirk was still there, as well as his arrogant and snobby attitude, but it all seemed so… fake. Like it was an act. Like he just doing it to get through his days. And why was he up at that tower? Was he gloating about the fact that the greatest wizard that ever lived had died there and it was all thanks to him? Did he want to be alone? Or was he actually regretting what he did? Merlin, she had no idea.

She had decided not to mention this particular incident to anyone, not Ginny or Neville, nor Harry or Ron. In her response to their letter she mentioned Malfoy as being "same old, same old". She knew if they knew, they would get worried and they needed to focus one hundred percent on their task. Besides, she could handle Malfoy, even if he had become some kind of perilous Death Eater. She could deal with him. And the best way to do that was to always be on alert and avoid him as much as possible, something he was already doing himself, which was good. She would still keep an eye on him, at a clear distance. And if he did truly regret what he had done… well, she wanted to believe that it was not too late for that, but faith seemed to be lacking inside these walls lately.

She had reached the end of her path, noting nothing out of the usual. Almost no one would loiter down here, too afraid of Snape or the Carrows and the Slytherin students. Besides, this place could give everyone the willies. She sighed, looking at her wrist watch for the exact time and it was quarter pass midnight. Yap, time to finally go to her bed and try to get a good night's rest, before one more hectic day tomorrow.

She turned around to go back when something caught her eye, further down the hallway. Someone was there. The lights in the Dungeons were usually dim at this time of night, all to make it that much creeper she would say, so her vision was reduced, but she could clearly make out a shadow at the far end of the corridor.

"Lumos!"

Her wand shone with a bright light, illuminating her path as she neared the stranger. It was a person. She could make out the shape of a body.

It was past curfew, so no one was supposed to be out of bed at this hour, except for maybe a professor. She inwardly wished it wasn't one of the Carrows. They had it in for her and she knew it. Carefully, she walked forward in the person's direction, her wand not seeming to intimidate whoever was wandering about at this hour. As she got closer she noticed that the person was facing her direction, as if waiting for her.

She gulped.

Don't be afraid Hermione. You can do this. You are Head Girl and this school still has rules that need to be fulfilled.

She gathered her Gryffindor courage and continued, head on, her wand leading her way. Whatever or whoever it was, she could deal. And as she took one final step, the light in her wand shone on the stranger's face and Hermione's scowl deepen.

Just her luck. Slytherin.

"Zabini." She acknowledge harshly.

"Why, Granger. Fancy seeing you this evening." The dark skinned boy smiled darkly, looking past the light in her wand.

"It's a bit past evening, don't you think? No one is allowed outside after curfew. What are you doing here?" she asked, lowering her wand, the dim lights being enough for now.

"Well then, it's a good thing we are not outside." He replied, the dark smile still plastered on his face.

"Don't get smart with me, Zabini. You know perfectly well what I meant."

"Oh Granger, I wouldn't dare to outsmart you. You are the brightest witch of our age and our Head Girl. It would be silly of me to even try."

"What are you doing here?" she inquired, ignoring his previous answer.

"Out for a walk, I guess. I was in need of some fresh air." He said indifferently, something in his nails catching his eye.

"It is a little late for walks. You could have waited until morning."

He replied with a small _humpf_ and shrugged his shoulders.

Hermione did not know much about Zabini other than the fact that his mother was a seven time widow and that he mostly kept to himself, barely associating himself with the other Slytherins. She had seen him around Malfoy, Parkinson and Nott a few times, but he would regard everyone else with disdain and contempt. She knew his family held high definitions for what it meant to be a Pureblood and how he was even talking to her was a mystery. Blaise was well known for his prejudice against Muggleborns and Half-bloods. She did not know if he had any association with Death Eaters or Voldemort, for that matter. And part of her didn't want to know.

Blaise seemed to disregard her as he kept looking at this nails, in search for any imperfections.

Arrogant idiot.

"That will be 10 points from Slytherin. Now, go back to your dormitory Blaise." Hermione said.

He looked at her, his expression unreadable.

"Why would I let a Mudblood tell me what to do?"

Hermione inhaled deeply, her hand gripping her wand tighter "Careful Zabini or this little stroll is going to get you detention."

He chuckled softly then, his small eyes turning into tiny half-moons.

"Oh, Granger! You really don't get it do you?" he asked, that stupid smile still on his face "I'm a Slytherin. I don't get detention. At least, not anymore. What do you think the Carrows would do if they found out you were giving their favourite students detention?"

"I'm not scared of the Carrows or Snape, or anyone for that matter. Now, go back to your dormitory Zabini before I really do get serious."

"Well you should be, Granger." He replied, his smile turning into another dark smirk.

"I should be what?"

"Scared."

His eyes had this crazy feel to them as he was looking straight her, grinning sinisterly. Hermione tried to hold back the fearful leap in her heart. Had everyone in Slytherin turned into a dreadful fool?

"Alright Zabini, that is enough. Just go back to your dormitory." she said, not letting him affect her.

"I already told you that no fucking Mudblood is going to tell me what to do." He repeated, coming closer to her. He wasn't all that tall, but his posture had turned menacing.

Hermione tried to keep calm as she took a step back "Twenty points from Slytherin for disrespecting the Head Girl, plus detention with Professor McGonagall."

He laughed again, still advancing on her, until her back hit the corridor's wall.

Brilliant.

Hermione was quick on her feet and drew out her wand again, pointing it at the dark-eyed Slytherin. He seemed unaffected by it and continued his advances, but Hermione was taking no chances tonight, the night at the Astronomy Tower flashing through her mind.

"Petrificus Tota –"

"Expelliarmus."

Hermione gasped as her wand fell straight into Blaise's hand. She had not noticed him drawing his own wand. Confusion filled her features. How did he…

"Unlike you, Granger, I am no stranger to wandless magic. You can get that annoying look off your face, now." He told her calmly, as he played with her wand.

"Give me back my wand, Zabani." She crossly retorted, still trying to slow down her fast beating heart.

"Hmm, let me think." He faked ponderation for a moment, before replying "Uh, no."

"I mean it, Blaise. You are this close to expulsion!"

"Must I repeat everything to you? We don't get detentions and we certainly aren't going to be expelled. And here I was thinking you were smart. It seems Mudbloods are really just dumb, obnoxious creatures after all." he said, as he hovered over her, her wand still dancing on his fingers.

Hermione was beginning to run out of options. She pondered just running away, far away from this other crazy Slytherin, but she needed her wand. What if something happened? What if the school was attacked? She could try and get it some other time, some other way, but she would be kidding herself if she believed in that scenario.

Blaise was still playing with her wand, looking at her, that fucking smirk on this face. She knew about his biases and preconceptions, she knew he was pretty much against everything that had to do with Muggleborns and Half-bloods, but to act it out like this… He was usually so reserved, so quiet. Had he finally taken his part on the other side? Had he accepted the same fate as Malfoy? Had he joined Voldemort in his absurd crusade?

"Oh, Granger, please stop thinking. You look like you are about to explode."

"Give me back my fucking wand!"

"I didn't know you could curse, Mudblood." He laughed, now completely near her "Who knew, Mudblood Granger had such a potty mouth?"

"Beats being a Slytherin dickhead, with a poor excuse for a mother and a pitiful lineage." She replied, not letting her fear get the best of her.

His laughter died completely, his expression going from amused to sombre in seconds. Hit a nerve did she? It seemed all Slytherins had some kind of soft spot for their family and ancestry. Hermione was quickly learning that and making use of it every time she could. Although, now might not have been a very good time. She didn't know who she was dealing with. Malfoy was different. She already knew what he was capable off, or at least, she thought she knew. With Zabini, she was completely in the dark.

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you." He warned her darkly, his stare almost burning wholes on her skull.

"Is that a threat?"

He grinned wildly "Believe me when I say it is. It definitely is."

His free hand came up to grab her neck forcefully, pushing her further into the wall. Her body slumped against it with a ' _thump_ ', the back of her head hitting the stone. She gasped in pain, her vision blurry and her hands quickly tried to push him away, but his fingers were slowly digging into her throat, cutting off her air supply.

She gasped again, trying to gulp in some air, but his grip was too fierce. Her lungs constricted, no oxygen coming in.

No, no, no, this is not happening. No, no, no, not again.

She was desperately trying to breathe, while Blaise kept her there, this wild, evil grin plastered on his face.

He was enjoying this.

He was enjoying this so much.

How on earth was this possible? Since when did all these students began turning into potential murderers? Was this the true power of Voldemort? To turn even the most reserved, quiet man into a crazy, vice killer? Was this the power of Dark Magic? Was this how it was all going to end?

Hermione clawed him, trying to pry his hand away but he wouldn't budge. She tried to kick him, but found out her legs had been bound to the wall. Her neck was getting sore, her vision getting dizzy. She was struggling so hard to get air into her lungs.

Oh, Merlin. Harry, Ron, Ginny, someone. Someone help me. He is going to kill me. I'm going to die here. Please, anyone!

"Not so high and mighty now, are we Granger? That's right. This is where you belong, Granger. Right here, being crushed under my fingers." He told her "That's it. Die you fucking Mudblood bitch."

No, no! Please, anyone! No!

Her body was starting to feel numb, black spots in her vision. Her face felt red. Was it red? Tears were filling her eyes. Merlin, this was it. Her lungs were hurting so much. She felt herself about to faint. No. Don't black out on me now. Stay awake. Fight.

She clawed again, her nails drawing blood on his skin. Her legs wouldn't move. Her mouth was open, despairing for air. She was panicking, her body shaking, her eyes closing. And he just laughed. He was laughing. He was laughing at her death. He was –

"Well, what do we have here?"

That voice. She knew that voice.

Her eyes were getting heavy, her ears muffled. But that voice. She knew that voice. Blaise heard it two and his laughter died again as he glared to his left. His grip seemed to loosen a bit, probably because of the source of the distraction, but his hand remained around her throat.

She took a deep breath, the lovely oxygen filling her lungs once again.

She coughed, the lack of air being too much and tried to breathe normally again, the colour returning to her face. Her hands remained on his, her body feeling too weak. She was panting, panting for air, panting of distress, panting for someone, anyone, that could take him off her. Was that person here to help her or simply to watch the show?

"What are you doing here Malfoy? Get the fuck away." Blaise seethed, his gaze turned to the blonde.

Malfoy.

Hermione glanced at the direction of Blaise's stare and there he was.

Malfoy.

He had his arms crossed in front of his chest, that annoying smirk on his face. He seemed to be enjoying the view, clearly.

She gulped again, the feeling returning to her legs. Malfoy. He wasn't even looking at her, his gaze directed at the other Slytherin who currently had his hand wrapped around her neck. She noticed Blaise didn't seem too keen on being interrupted, even if it was by one of his supposed peers.

"Feisty tonight aren't we, Zabini? Whatcha ya doing there? Has Granger been naughty?"

Blaise smirked as well, returning his attention to the witch in his hands "Something like that, yes. I was teaching her about respect. Got a bit carried away."

"I can see that. Never seen her so pale in my life." Malfoy observed, taking in her appearance.

Hermione was now extremely anxious. This was not good. Here she was, far down in the Dungeons, with two Slytherins who hated her guts. This was bad. This was very bad.

"It kind of suits her, not that she will ever be able to clean of the filth." Blaise said, analysing her face. His grip tighten some more and the pain returned to her neck. Hermione gasped again, her own hands tightening as well. Blaise began to chuckle once more, with a sadistic smile "Merlin, Granger. You are so fragile. It's fucking pathetic."

"I'm pathetic?" she rasped, coughing slightly "The only reason you are even touching me is because you have my wand! Too much of a chicken to face me in a proper duel!"

"Keep your mouth shut, you Mudblood whore!" Blaise growled as his hand began constricting her airway again.

Oh, Merlin no!

Hermione began to feel the lack of oxygen, her eyes almost rolling out of their sockets.

"Blaise, as much as I like seeing Granger in pain, you really need to stop now."

Blaise looked at Malfoy once again "Why the fuck would I do that? She's dirt, she's filth. She's better off dead anyway."

"She is dirt and she is filth. She is also the Dark Lord's to kill." Malfoy explained, as if he were telling this to a five year old. "So now, be a good little Death Eater and let her go."

"Don't patronize me, Malfoy. The Dark Lord will be happy that she is gone."

"Voldemort wants her for himself, as he wants every one of those fucking wankers she calls friends." Malfoy said again "Do you really want to test his patience? If he knows she died before he could get his hands on her, you can kiss your fucking black arse goodbye."

"You're one to know about that, aren't you Malfoy? You sure did test his patience up on that tower."

Malfoy's stare turned deadly, his arms coming to rest at his sides, his posture turning menacing.

"Don't test me, Zabini."

Blaise laughed "You don't scare me Malfoy. If it were up to me, you'd be dead by now. You are a fucking humiliation."

Hermione didn't even saw it coming, but Blaise had barely finished the sentence and his hand had, almost miraculously, fallen from her neck. His whole body left her and she could finally take a deep breath.

Her hands came up to her throat, massaging the soreness and she coughed hard. Her ears hurt and her eyes were fresh with new formed tears.

She managed to lean against the wall, too weak to stand on her own and as she recomposed herself, thankful for the oxygen, Blaise's screams echoed through the dark corridor. His body was on the floor, in front of her, constricting in pain. His eyes were closed, his mouth filled with these roaring, excruciating screams. And standing next to him, wand in his hand, stood Draco Malfoy. She didn't even hear him cast the curse, but she was sure what curse it was.

She kept gasping and coughing, one hand holding the wall to support her. She noticed her wand had left Blaise's hand and was lying next to him. She thought about reaching for it, hex them both and finally get away from all of this, but she was sure her legs weren't working properly.

"Crucio."

Malfoy said it again and Blaise yelled harder, as if his body was suffering from these invisible electric shocks. He kept rolling and constricting about on the floor, his screams almost too painful to bear. Hermione feared he might die from the pain, but Malfoy seemed pretty unaffected by it, like he was used to seeing it on a regular basis. Hermione didn't even want to think why and how.

"Malfoy…"

He didn't hear her, his attention stuck on the boy yelping and shivering on the floor. His wand was still pointed at Blaise and his eyes were frenetic, they were wide open. He was enraged, his mouth almost snarling. He looked like he was, again, debating with himself, trying to figure out what he was doing or what he would do next, not caring that a fellow Slytherin was on the ground trying to make it through the pain that he had caused. And he was going to curse him again.

"Cru-"

"Malfoy!"

Draco looked up at the sound of his name, the curse dying on his tongue.

She was leaning against the wall, one hand supporting her weight and the other soothing her neck. She looked terrified as she stared at him. She was still panting, as if she had run a marathon and her knees were wobbly. Still, even looking terrified, there was a hint of determination in her face. A hint of bravery and resolve.

Damn you, Granger and your fucking Gryffindor courage.

He looked down at Blaise, who was currently trembling at his feet. The screams had stopped, but his eyes were still closed, his body curled up into a ball. He couldn't say he regretted what he did, but this whole situation could have been avoidable if Blaise would stop being such a fucking twat. He didn't mean to Crucio him, not really. But he couldn't allow for Blaise to talk shit about him. He had to show him that cowardly Malfoy was no more. He was a Death Eater now. They both were. And Blaise had to show his respect. And if showing respect meant being cursed by Malfoy, then that was exactly what he had to do.

But that was not all. Part him knew why he did what he did.

What he had said was true. Voldemort did want Granger for himself. He was sadistic and vicious like that. So, why Blaise was here trying to off Granger in the first place, made no sense to him. He imagined the dark skinned wizard had snapped at some point. Blaise may be quiet and reserved, but those were usually the ones who were the most dangerous and nasty. He knew he hated Granger with passion, just like Draco hated her himself. But to try and kill her?

Well, that wasn't exactly something so uncommon, was it? He had tried to do the same thing two weeks ago. He thought about it. He seriously wanted to, just to get her to shut up, to stop existing; just to shut up that voice in his head, to finally prove to himself that he wasn't a coward. Yes, he had wanted her dead. So, if that was the case, why did he save her just now?

Voldemort did want her for himself, but if Blaise showed up with Granger's head, he'd doubt there would be any problem. Sure Voldemort might sulk a bit, but in the end, he'd realize that the Mudblood bitch was dead and he'd have a party. And that was the honest truth and Malfoy knew that… and yet, he saved her.

Blaise's shivering had finally subsided, but he was still on the ground. Draco guessed he may have fainted. Hmm and he was the humiliation? Come on. It was just two simple Cruciatus curses. Anyone could handle that.

"Malfoy…"

He looked at her again, as she struggled to keep straight. At least she seemed to be breathing normally again. His wand was still in his hand and the thought to end the deed crossed his mind. Wouldn't that be so simple? To end it?

He'd been avoiding her ever since that night. Ever since he tried to end her life and she saw him cry about it, afterwards. He cried because was fed up with it, all of it. He cried like a baby and she saw it. He was afraid she would taunt him, humiliate him, use that information to denigrate his image even more, but she had kept quiet. He wondered if she had told her Gryffindor buddies or even McGonagall or Snape, but he assumed she did not. He was still breathing and no one had approached him with the promise of a beat up. She avoided him as well, not really looking at him. Maybe he had really scared her. Good. Maybe now, she'd understand that she wasn't dealing with same Malfoy from years ago. She was dealing with this new Malfoy, this Slytherin turned Death Eater, who tried to murder Dumbledore. Maybe she'd finally realise that he was no boy anymore, that he was dangerous.

Hermione stared back at him, his eyes looking straight through hers. Blaise was immobilized, but Malfoy still had his wand and he could use it on her at any second now. If he truly was thinking about that, she had to try and reason with him. She was still confused as to why he prevented Blaise from hurting her, but if he was telling the truth about her being some sick prize for Voldemort, she wasn't safe right now and she desperately needed to recover her wand and flee.

"What, Granger?"

She tried not to stutter with the words "Are you… Are you going to…"

"Kill you?" he asked.

She kept looking at him, her eyes big and wide.

She was scared.

Good.

But, no Granger. I'm not going to kill you. I want to. I want really want to. But I won't.

"No." he answered finally, putting his wand back into his robes.

She relaxed a bit, still guarding his every move. Malfoy moved passed Blaise and reached for her wand on the floor. Oh, Merlin, no! How could she have been so stupid! And you call yourself smart, Hermione!

She tried to reach for it first, feeling much stronger, finally being able to stand on her own two legs but he was quicker. He took it from the floor and she backed up again, against the wall, wondering what his next move was going to be. And it shocked her when he simply handed it to her.

"You should be more careful, Granger. Hogwarts is not safe anymore." He said as she accepted her wand back.

He then turned around and performed a simple Levicorpus on Blaise. The dark haired wizard, was then rushed into the air by his ankle, still not waking up. That Cruciatus seemed to have gotten to him, badly.

"Maybe we should get Madame Promfey." she suggested, still holding her wand, just in case.

Malfoy turned back to look at her like she was insane. Zabini had just tried to kill her and she wanted to take him to the Infirmary? Was she nuts? No wonder you are getting yourself closer to being killed, Granger.

"He'll be fine. Not that it should matter to you, Granger. Or maybe you like these near death experiences and want to do it again. Never took you for a masochist."

Hermione didn't reply, as she observed Blaise hovering in the air, unconscious.

Honestly, she had no idea why she'd suggest such a thing, even after all that happened. It was like there was this big part of her that still believed that they were merely students that like to bully other people. And if they were bullies, bullies still deserved the minimum of healthcare. They were still human beings after all… Weren't they?

Malfoy sighed, not really knowing what to do. He knew Blaise would come out of it eventually and he would be furious. But he could deal with furious Blaise. He wasn't sure that Hermione could though. And that should make him happy. He should thrive on that information. But he didn't. Fucking, Granger. Always looking out for everyone, with those damn puppy dog eyes and motherly stare and luscious lips and –

Ok, that was his queue to leave.

He quickly turned around and began to walk away, Blaise flying behind him.

"Why didn't you let him kill me? Am I really a prize to Voldemort?"

He stopped, his back still facing her. Don't say anything Draco. Just keep moving, walk away.

She hadn't meant to ask. She didn't want to know. Except that she did. Draco Malfoy had just stopped another supposed Death Eater from killing her and that confounded her in so many ways, she thought she might explode just thinking about it. She was curious about it and right now, she couldn't give a damn if the fucking cat got killed.

He seemed to think about his answer before replying with a simple "No."

And then he began to walk away again, her attempted murderer following his suit. And Hermione could only stare as they disappeared into the Dungeons.

* * *

 **We are getting closer and closer to the big day, where we will find out Malfoy's true intentions! Thank-you again for all your support!**

 **Hope you are having a fantastic day, wherever you are :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello! How are you this fine evening/morning/afternoon/toolatetoevenbeup?**

 **I've been having some trouble writing the scene where they finally meet again, in the present. I know what I want to say, but I want it to be just right and I always end up not loving it. Any suggestions? What would you like to see? Tell me!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Year 2003, June  
The Ministry of Magic**

How he managed to still look elegant and intimidating all at the same time, even when being brutally escorted by two bulky Aurors, Hermione had no clue.

Her first detail of him was his hair. It seemed a bit dishevelled, not too long, not to short. Just how she used to like it.

What? No.

Hermione mentally scold herself.

No. No thinking about his hair.

His hair was untidy, but his robes were immaculate. They were fit, apparently tailored and expensive looking. So he was still rich, obviously. The expression on his face was unreadable, as he was manhandled to the chair at the centre of the room. He had his wrists tied with some sort of magical bound.

Tied wrists, hmm.

Merlin, stop it, Hermione.

Why the need to bind his wrists, she didn't know, but she assumed the Ministry was taking every precaution. As he took a seat, she noticed he seemed leaner somehow, maybe he had lost a few pounds, but the robes he was wearing, would not let her clarify that. As she took a closer look at this face, she noticed he had shaved, but there were some dark, prominent circles under his eyes. He was never one for much sleep, anyway.

He kept his stare forward, sitting with a straight back, his posture showing no signs of hesitation or fear. The two bulky Aurors made sure everything was in order, before proceeding to each corners of the room. Hermione thought that the guarding job was a bit excessive, since the room was full of well-trained Aurors that were more than capable of dealing with Malfoy, but she knew Kingsley liked to take extra-precautions.

Malfoy had yet to acknowledge her presence, his stare fixated on Kingsley and Robards.

She wished she didn't feel slightly disappointed, but she did. As she tried to examine every little aspect of him discreetly, he seemed to completely ignore her, as if she wasn't in the room.

Her heart sank a little.

Maybe this was just strictly business. As it should be, Hermione. This was all professional. Malfoy had no other reason to come back. And that is fine by you. You shouldn't have it any other way. If only he wasn't so damn gorgeous… And yes, even tied up, with his messy hair and puffy eyes, Draco Malfoy was stunning. He was beautiful. And the fact that he knew that and made use of that information, made him all the more handsome. Handsome and insufferable.

Hermione felt her poker face beginning to fade and was about to regain her composure when Kingsley spoke, getting up from this chair.

"Mister Malfoy, good-morning."

"Minister."

He sounded rugged, like he hadn't used his voice in a long time. Hermione couldn't help the small shiver that ran up her spine at the sound of this voice. She remembered what that voiced used to do to her.

Oh, Merlin. She started to think that this had probably been a very bad idea. And her husband was right there. Fuck, she was a horrible wife.

"Needless to say the reason you are here, correct?" Kingsley continued, as he rounded the table and approached the chair Malfoy was sitting on.

"No need for that, no."

"As you know, or may not know, for the sake of veracity in your statements, we must indulge you to drink a bit of Veritaserum. Do you agree with this?" Kingsley took out a small vial, full with what seemed like clear water.

"I agree."

Kingsley took the cork out of the small bottle and poured some of the liquid into Malfoy's mouth.

 _"_ _Ok"_ Hermione thought to herself _"No, going back. This is it."_

The Minister put the bottle back into his robes, as Malfoy drank the last of the colourless liquid, and made his way towards his seat again. After Kingsley was seated, Robards took out a small parchment and a quill. Hermione took a slight glance at Harry and Ron, who seemed unaffected by Malfoy's presence. Harry had his total game face on and Ron would have had his too if his red, tomato ears weren't giving him away. Hermione felt pride though, how he was able to keep a professional stance.

Her gaze went back to Malfoy, who was still looking straight ahead, his eyes focused on Kinglsey. Hadn't he noticed they were all there? He must have.

"Very well, let us begin." This time, it was Robards who was speaking "What is your full name?"

"My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy." He still sounded so proud of this name.

"When were you born?"

"I was born on the 5th of June of 1980." Hermione realized his birthday had been during her honeymoon. This thought unsettled her. She hadn't even remembered…

"Who are your parents?"

Hermione knew these questions were ridiculous, but they were necessary to concede the effects of the Truth Potion.

"My father is Lucius Malfoy II and my mother is Narcissa Malfoy."

Do they even know you are here, Malfoy?

"Yes, well, good." Robards scribbled on his parchment before continuing "Let's move on to the more serious matter, which has brought us all together. Mister Malfoy, what is your purpose towards the Ministry?"

Oh for Merlin's sake, just ask him about the gatherings. Hermione was practically on the edge of her seat, literally.

"Supply the Ministry with information, to prevent greater evil." For the first time since he got there, Malfoy gave them one of his well-known smirks. Hermione believed it was like a side-affect from the potion. You are bound to tell the truth and your personal feelings and thoughts are involved in said truth, as well. His smirk was Malfoy being Malfoy.

"And what information may that be?"

"Information that I want to privately discuss with the Minister himself."

The room went quiet.

Malfoy was still smirking.

Hermione knew they didn't approve of that particular answer.

"Mister Malfoy, have you or have you not information concerning Death Eater activity in the past few months?" Robards tried another approach, instigating a more direct answer.

"Yes."

Silence.

"And?" Robards was insisting, a look of threat on his face, tried to intimidate the former Slytherin.

Robards was known for his very short temper, like Ron. But unlike Ron, who was brutal and vulgar, Robards took a more ominous approach, the use of torture one of his favourite tools. Of course, Kingsley would never approve of that. Maybe that is why Robards has been so unhappy since Kingsley took charge.

"And what?"

"Do not mock me, Mister Malfoy!" Ok, Robards was getting angry.

Malfoy's only reply was to roll his eyes.

Hermione did not like where this was going. Malfoy was acting, well, like Malfoy, but he was the one that came forward and contacted the Ministry. If this was just a waste of everyone's time, he was in serious trouble.

"Please tell the assembly, what kind of information is in your power." Robards asked again, his quill impatiently waiting.

"I already told you. I prefer to discuss the matter with the Minister himself."

"Mister Malfoy, may I remind you that you are currently seated in the Ministry of Magic, with a room full of Aurors, who will show no mercy if they are to know that this whole thing has been a –"

"That is quite alright, Gawain." Kinglsey interrupted, before Robards started to fire hexes from his quill. He looked carefully at Malfoy, who now had a very serious expression, seemingly unaffected by Robards threats "May I ask, why the firmness on talking solemnly to me?"

"Because, I don't trust the lot."

Ok, now Hermione was insulted. Didn't trust her? Them? The nerve of him! After all he has done and THEY were the ones that weren't trustworthy? Seriously, Malfoy. Pillock is clearly your middle name.

"You bloody ferret! What is that supposed to mean?" And Ron's composure was gone. He lasted a total of 10 minutes. Not bad.

"Mister Weasley, please remain seated." Robbards warned him.

Hermione didn't even notice Ron had gotten up, too busy trying to decipher Malfoy's true intentions in coming here. He couldn't possibly be lying, since he was under the effect of the potion. So, maybe, in all honesty, he knew stuff but wanted to speak to Kingsley first. But to say he didn't trust them…

She looked at her husband, who was currently fuming from his nose and years. His hands were balled into fists and the tomato red had spread to his entire face and neck. Malfoy didn't even blink. And Harry… Harry was just sitting, with his hands interlaced in front of this face, elbows on the table, as in deep thinking, staring at his former or not so former rival. She pondered on speaking, but that would mean that all attentions would be centred on her, including Malfoy's. She could not decide if that was a good or a bad thing, so she remained quiet, observing the exchange.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Ron grudgingly sat back, his features hard and raging.

"Mister Malfoy, I can assure you everyone here has my absolute trust." Kinglsey continued.

"Doesn't mean they have mine." he snarled, looking with disdain at the two best-friends in the left corner.

"You fuc–" Ron rose up from the chair again.

"Mister Weasley! Do I need to ask you to leave?" Robards asked furiously.

"Shame to know you are still as daft as always Weasel. What a degrading specimen of a wizard you turned out to be. Can't say I'm surprised, considering the family that raised you." Malfoy sneered, clearly enjoying how Ron was getting all worked up.

Ron was now breathing heavily, his right hand ready to draw out his wand. Hermione felt like she should say something, knowing that her husband was currently debating himself whether to hex Malfoy into oblivion or not. She knew if she spoke, Malfoy would be obliged to concede that she was actually seated a few feet from him. Her mind was still debating if that was a good idea, but she knew she had to do something to calm Ron down or he would do something that he would later regret… or not. She quietly cleared her throat, preparing herself to speak and –

"Ron, calm down. There is no need for this."

Harry, ever the saviour.

Malfoy's gaze turned to the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, his smirk turning into a frown. Hermione believed that was his way of showing how he always thought Harry spoiled all his fun, demonstrating just how a child would feel when they would take his favourite toy away. She released a small breath of relief, making a mental note to somehow thank Harry later.

Ron was still huffing, much like a bull when it was preparing itself to strike it's pray, but his hand had descended towards the table and he took a seat once more, still staring adamantly at Malfoy.

"I don't know why you have to feel like you can't trust us, Malfoy. If anyone here shouldn't be trusted is you." Harry stated, his eyes piercing through his glasses "After all, you are the one that came to us. If you think we are unworthy of your trust, why come here in the first place?"

"I have to teach you how to do things right, as usual, Potter." Malfoy spat, his hands twitching in his binds "Clearly, this Ministry is composed by idiots or else you lot would know that you are doing a pitiful job. And I, as a rule, don't trust or care for idiots, so as much as you would like to play the hero on this one Potter, I already told you what I know. I have information that I want to discuss privately with the Minister himself and that is the honest truth. But I'm starting to regret my decision, already. This Ministry is more doomed than I thought, with the foolish group of Aurors you've assembled, starting with Weasley over here."

Oh Malfoy, you really can't keep your mouth shut can you? Ron was livid, trembling hard with rage in his seat. Hermione feared he would snap at any second. She had to put some control on this situation, Malfoys be damned.

"Can you at least tell us if we are dealing with something dangerous? The whole purpose of this interrogation was to determine whether there is immediate danger and if we need to take action quickly."

As she predicted, the entire room focused on her, minus the blonde 'prisoner' that was currently being interrogated. Malfoy kept his gaze on Harry, not even sparing her a glance.

Well that was rude.

Hermione couldn't help but feel offended. His attitude made her remember the days he would almost spit in her face and taunt her about her heritage. Now, he acted like she wasn't even worthy of his attention. Hermione didn't know what was worse, to be honest. She was staring right at him, awaiting an answer and he wouldn't even look at her!

Ron was still fuming, but seemed to keep quiet for now, waiting for Malfoy's answer as well. Everyone was staring expectantly at him, while he kept his attention focused on Harry.

Alas, he spoke.

"I wouldn't underestimate what is happening. If it slipped passed your shitty radars, it may look like it is something manageable, that won't create much fuss." He explained "But give an aspirant to the Death Eater 'look' a wand and a mark and it will not end well."

"You should know, Malfoy. Are you sure you are not talking about yourself?" Ron said heatedly.

"Save me the pitiful moralism, Weasley. As if I'd be as idiot as you, to engage myself in the Dark Arts and sit in a room full of Aurors. I thought your marriage to Granger would at least serve to treat your pea brain to some intelligence."

Hermione didn't even have time to process what Malfoy had just said, her husband quickly getting up for the third time, this time Harry not able to stop him. Ron drew his wand and pointed it at Malfoy, his face red and flustered, body quivering with wrath.

"Don't you fucking mention my wife's name, you fucking bastard." Ron warned with a very low, serious tone.

"MISTER WEASELY, SUCH BEHAVIOUR WILL NOT BE ALLOWED!" Robards was losing it, also getting up from his chair, prepared to tackle Ron into the ground at any moment.

"I can't just let this misbegotten shit speak to us this way!" Ron yelled, outraged at Robards reaction.

"Misbegotten? Do you even know what that means, or is that what Granger likes to call you in the sack?" Malfoy asked, still as calm and collected as ever.

Hermione knew there was no coming back from this, now.

She had seen Ron angry before, but she knew how Malfoy would push is buttons in a way that very few would. And the ferret was also aware of that fact. True, since they started dating, Ron has taken up a little more vocabulary, but it wasn't like she was teaching him. It was only natural that you'd learn new things when you spend time with a person. Hermione had also learned a lot more about Quidditch, even though she completely detested it. So, she recognised Malfoy's cruel teasing as a way to rile up Ron, other than a way to make her a target to his unkind words. Still, her patience was starting to wear thin, this interrogation turning into laughable ordeal.

Somehow Ron managed to fire a hex, but Robbards was quick on this reflexes, finally tackling him into the ground, making the hex turn its direction to the ceiling. Kinglsey was livid and ordered the two Auror's that were supposedly guarding Malfoy, to immobilize Ron. Harry looked like he just wanted a hole he could dive into and Lupin, who had kept quiet the entire time, was chuckling softly at the scene, finding this all very amusing. Everything about this situation was ridiculous and Hermione sighed in frustration, face in her hands. It had taken Malfoy twenty minutes to turn this room upside down. And not was not his personal best, by far.

In amidst to all the confusion, she tried one more glance at the former Slytherin and was surprised to be met with grey eyes, that were staring right back at her. She gasped quietly, her poker face completely gone, as she stared openly at him. He was sternly looking at her, his features clenched and his body all but relaxed. He seemed like he was debating something, like he was thinking about so many things at once.

Malfoy was angry and disappointed at the same time. He wanted to smirk and he wanted to smile. He wanted to tell her something, to talk, but couldn't bring himself to. He was trying to say so many things just through his gaze, it made her dizzy. Had he done this all on purpose, just to take a look at her? Just to take a chance to look at her freely, without repercussions? Hermione's romantic side wanted to believe that, but the more practical one immediately shut down those silly thoughts.

Her husband was currently on the ground, struggling against two Aurors and here she was, having a staring contest with Draco Malfoy. Her face was still much open to every emotion possible and she knew he had seen every single one of them. Fuck. Was there any other reason he was suddenly smirking defiantly like that?

If there was one person Draco knew well, that person was Hermione Granger. She was so easy to read, like a book. That is why he didn't buy her up-tight, lip-sealed act at the beginning of this freak fest. She was perceptibly uncomfortable with his presence and he did notice her staring at him from the corner of his eye throughout the session; staring at him like trying to decipher this big puzzle, while struggling to seem indifferent at the same time. Yes, Granger was an open book to him, her body language giving her away every time, even though she believed she had it under control. Not with him, though. Never with him. And he wanted to keep that way.

He had riled up Weasley on purpose, knowing the red-head would snap eventually. He just hoped to cause enough of a distraction to take a peek at her, make her see that he knew she was there. Because she was there and she was staring back at him and that fact made him smirk wildly. He knew Granger was no Auror and he knew the department she ran had nothing to do with Death Eaters and Dark Magic. So, he assumed she had asked to be here. And Merlin, he wanted to know why. And that only made him smirk more.

Don't fret Granger, I'll be around to ask you.

The two Aurors finally were able to get a hold of Ron, who was still yelling all kinds of profanities. Robards was yelling back, an exchange of extreme coarse language taking place. Kingsley sighed in embarrassment and Harry had his eyes closed, fingers across his temple as he groaned at all that was happening.

"He's the one you should be arresting! That fucking excuse for a ferret!"

Hermione decided she had had enough.

"Ronald Weasley, will you please stop acting like a bloody child?" she asked, finally looking away from Malfoy's annoying smirk. She took in the scene before her, her husband being held by the same Aurors that had brought in the supposed former Death Eater. How is it that the roles had reversed so quickly? Malfoy was the one that was unbearable and intolerable, not her husband. Yet, Malfoy was coolly sitting in his seat, whilst her husband was being taken away from the scene. Brilliant.

Ron gave an incredulous laugh "I'm the child? Have you all lost your minds? Am I surrounded by bloody lunatics? He's a fucking Death Eater!"

"Was, Weasley. I have long decided that line of business didn't really suit me. Something you should consider as well, regarding the Auror profession." Malfoy corrected, still finding this situation very amusing.

Harry's hands landed on top of the table with a loud bang that caught everyone's attention.

"That is enough, Malfoy." He warned, his tone dead serious. "You said it yourself, you don't trust us and you want to speak with the Minister alone. Well, by all means, go ahead. Honestly, I'm tired of your bullshit. So do us all a favour: have your nice, little chat with the Minister and then fuck off."

The change in the room was palpable and Malfoy's amusement quickly vanished from this face. Harry made for the exit, not even bothering to say goodbye. The rest of the 'squad' merely stood there, looking at the blonde, a stern look on their faces. Lupin was next to leave, not saying anything as he had done during the whole session. Ron was still enraged and angry for being immobilized, but soon followed suit and with a small nod to Robards, decided he was going to go as well. Robards nodded back, giving the order for the Aurors to let Ron go. Hermione feared that as soon as he was free, he would make a dash for Malfoy, but to her surprise, he just gave her the most heated expression he could muster, one that said 'You just humiliated me and hurt me and your duty as my wife was to do the exact opposite, so, no sex for you tonight' and headed for the door as well, the Aurors and Robards right on his tail.

This left Kingsley and Hermione and she did not know what to do. Should she stay? Would Malfoy want her to stay? Should she leave?

"Hermione, please leave us."

It seemed Kingsley had already decided for her and Hermione had no choice but to obey him. She shouldn't have been here in the first place, so it was really not up to her. She looked at him, gesturing she agreed and got up from her chair.

Malfoy was looking intently at her. She didn't like that, not when Kingsley was looking at her as well. A small blush was forming in her cheeks, not enjoying the feeling of being observed, as she rounded the table to leave. She did notice, from the corner of her eye that Malfoy's gaze had travelled a little lower than it was supposed to and she cursed under her breath, unwanted feelings and memories rushing to her brain.

Why was he staring at her like that? He should stop. Stop right now. He had just made her husband look like a fool. She should be mad, annoyed, repulsed. She should be rushing out of the room to find Ron and try to soothe things. She did believe he had been acting like a complete infant, but she also knew, Malfoy was no saint himself. And Ron was her husband, the man she had chosen to share her life with. She owed him a little bit more consideration. So, stop staring at my fucking legs Malfoy.

Hermione finally made it to the door, opened it and closed it. The hallway was empty and she figured Harry and Ron had went somewhere to blow off some steam. She leaned back against the closed door, exhaling deeply and looking blankly at the ceiling above her.

This had clearly been a bad idea. Not only did she not know if what Malfoy claimed was true and the real reason behind his return, but she had let Ron down, for not showing him support. She did support him, oh Merlin, she did. But, dammit, he was acting like a five year old.

It didn't matter now. She had to find a way to fix it.

She shook her head, collecting her thoughts and readying herself for a long day at the office. She then took a peek at her outfit and gasped, outraged and humiliated at the same time. It seems her skirt had decided to not collaborate with her, somewhere in the middle of the session and was now wrinkly and well above her knees. And Malfoy had noticed it, clearly. Why else would he be staring so shamelessly at her legs? And for Hermione that excited her and scared at the same time.

Oh, Merlin, why? Why had he returned? Why was he here?

Fucking Malfoy.

She re-arranged herself, pulling the skirt down, making sure it was proper, before heading up to the Auror department to try and clean up the mess she made. She knew if Malfoy had something important to say, Kinglsey would tell them. That is what she should have thought in the first place, before pleading with him to sit through this ordeal. For someone who was so bright, she could sure act dumb, sometimes.

Fucking Malfoy.

* * *

 **Thank-you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it :) Any critiques, suggestions, opinions or even some shameless love are very much welcome!**

 **Hope you are having a nice day/night wherever you are!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Consider this my first gift for you (one of many too come, I hope) :3**

 **Thank-you for the support. It makes my day, especially right now since I'm so full of uni work, ugh.**

* * *

 **Year 1996, February**

 **The Library**

Books are an excellent company. Whenever you feel lonely, one of the best things you can do is sit down and read a book. A book can take you places you have never been to and make you see things you have never seen. A book offers you a refuge when you just want somewhere to escape. A book can give you advice, it can make you laugh and it can even touch you with its words.

A book can be a loyal friend, who never gets you down, unless the story is pretty darn awful and you are currently dateless on Valentine's Day and all you can see is your solitary future, surrounded by cats and more dusty old books and no one to hold and caress and love and –

Hermione groaned again.

Yes, books, the solution to everything.

Not likely.

Her mind had drifted away during one pretty boring paragraph on the possible effects of Death-Cap Draught, which were mainly unknown and unaccounted for, so this book wasn't giving her much to start with, other from the fact that it said it could be a poison of sorts. Great.

She had no idea of the time, but she supposed it was late. It felt that way. After dinner, she came straight to the library to do some more research and to study some more for her O.W.L.s. They were less than four months away and she felt like she still needed to get so much work done, especially for Potions Class. Snape was not making it easy. If anything, he was making it incredibly harder, even for her.

Of course, Harry and Ron decided not to accompany her, too busy sulking themselves for one more dateless Valentine's Day. There should be some kind of rule for this day. It shouldn't be allowed to date other people and couples had to spend it apart, like some kind of test to their true intentions and devotion.

There shouldn't be a Valentine's Day altogether, period. Every time she walked passed those lovesick couples she would just go "Eww". And currently, this book was making her go "Eww" as well.

Hermione sighed, feeling drowsy and tired, her body insisting on her calling it a night. But she had to finish this damn Potions essay, due tomorrow. And yes, who would've figured, Hermione Granger, finishing an essay the night before turn in, but lately she had been with so much work with her O.W.L.s and the Order and D.A. meetings. Also, Umbridge kept breathing down their necks, surveying their every move. And on top of all that, here she was, spending Valentine's Day alone, in the Library. Lucky for her, McGonagall conceded in giving her an after-hours pass, so she could study late into the night. Which is exactly was she was trying to do if she wasn't distracted by the fact that she was, once again, the dateless monster.

The fact that Ron and Harry were kind of dateless did little to nothing in cheering her up, since that only made the three of them look more pathetic. And she knew, she knew she shouldn't care about this. She had bigger things to worry about. And she had more important things to deal with other than boys and romance. She knew she had no time for these ludicrous thoughts, but she couldn't help feeling a little down. Which was silly, really. She was more than used to spending this day alone. Viktor was the exception last year and she thought that maybe, she got a little accustomed to having someone special on this day. Or not. Sigh.

Her head fell forward to the book resting on the table. She felt pretty foolish. Hermione, come on! You have an essay due tomorrow, D.A. meetings to prepare, O.W.L.s to study for, the fate of the Wizard World to care about and here you are, thinking about boys. Get a grip. Focus.

"That is an interesting way of reading, Granger. Are you trying to absorb the information through that filthy skin of yours?"

Great. Just her luck.

Hermione didn't even bother to look up from her book as she replied "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I can't seem to hear you properly when all that brown mess you call a hair is all over your head."

She grumbled something he couldn't understand and looked up to glare at him. He was by her table, chin high, a book in his hand. His smirk was lacking, his expression serious. Strands of his hair were falling from his sleek gel and his tie was untied, shirt untucked. The tiny silver "I" shone on his robes, alerting everyone that he was a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, but he looked somewhat tired as well and she had no idea what he could possibly be doing in the library at his hour. Or why he was even talking to her, but she suspected he was here to do his job as a proud member of that dreadful squad, Umbridge decided to institute.

"Are you here to give me detention, Malfoy? My shirt isn't untucked, unlike you." She said, remembering that he had docked points from Ron with that exact same motive.

"No, Granger. I'm not here to bring you to justice." He retorted, putting his own book on her table, which confused her "And if I was, you know the main reason I would dock points from you was becau –"

"Then what do you want, Malfoy?" she interrupted, knowing perfectly well what he was going to say, but too drained to hear it.

"Well, I…" he seemed to stumble with the words, looking down at his feet.

Well this was new. Draco Malfoy nervous in her presence? Had she fallen asleep? Was this the start of a horrible nightmare? She thought about pinching herself to make sure, but was too busy feeling astonished to even move her hands. Her eyebrows lowered in confusion, when he just kept looking down and stuttering. What the hell was going on?

"Well, Granger, truth is I…"

Merlin, this was hard. He was making a bloody fool out of himself and Draco Malfoy was no fool. He was anything but. It had taken him a lot to even admit this to himself, to even take up the courage to approach her in the first place, but after long days of debate he had reached the shocking conclusion that he needed to do this.

This was it.

This was the moment.

He couldn't wait any longer and he had waited long enough.

It was one of the hardest things he ever had to do, but it had to be done. He had to remind himself, however, that this proved nothing. This meant nothing. She was still a filthy, little Mudblood and he was still the son of Lucius Malfoy, a Pureblood and Slytherin. This did not prove that she was in any way better than him, or that he was in any way lower than her. No. This was him being the higher being and making use of his resources, taking that to his advantage. This was him being brave and admitting to a fault, a defect in the system; an imperfection if one may. Yes, that was exactly what this was. An imperfection. And he could live with that.

"Spit it out, Malfoy. I don't have all night."

Well make this even harder, why don't you?

He scowled, but that actually made him regain his composure "Truth is, Granger, I need your help."

An uncomfortable silence had descended and the room went quiet, even more, if possible. The library was usually a very quiet place, especially at night, but right now, you could actually hear a pin drop.

Hermione kept looking up at him, not sure if she had heard correctly but the seriousness of his expression gave her little to no doubt. Help? He was asking for help? Draco Malfoy was asking HER for help? You do realise who I am, don't you Malfoy? I'm Hermione Granger, I'm best-friends with Harry Potter, a Gryffindor and I'm a Muggleborn, a fact which you more than despise. Also, I punched you almost two years ago and I recently slapped you, in the Great Hall, in front of everyone. Are you sure about this?

Ok, this had to be a dream, a nightmare, whatever, but she had to be asleep. She had to.

"You… what?" she asked, still not totally recovered from the shock.

Well, make me say that again, Granger, why don't you?

Draco groaned slowly, his right hand busy fidgeting with the corners of the book he had just put on the table. He should have known she was going to make this even more of a bother. He knew pretty well who he was dealing with, after all. But he faced her, looking straight at her eyes.

"I said, I needed your help." He didn't stutter this time, a fact that made him a bit proud and made him feel like he had recovered some dignity.

Hermione didn't answer immediately and they kept staring at each other, silence involving them once more. She had heard it right the first time. Draco Malfoy was really asking her for help. She did not know what for and was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation. Wake up, dammit!

"If you are going to sit there and gap at me all night like a bloody idiot, then I think I've made the wrong decision after all."

That seemed to shake her back to reality. No, definitely not a dream.

Malfoy was still there, expecting her reply. Was she going to say something? Was she going to laugh at him? Just try, Granger and I'll show you the power of the Inquisitorial Squad. I'll tie you to this chair and make you help me if I have too. Come to think of it, why didn't he do just that? Fucking twat.

"No, I…" now it was her turn to stumble with her words. "I… wait did you just call me an idiot?"

Draco sighed, closing his eyes and putting his fingers to his temples "Look, Granger, I really have no time for this. If you don't want to help, just say so and I'll be off your case." Not before docking more points and giving you detention. No one gets to refuse a Malfoy and get away with it.

Hermione did not know what to do. She felt like laughing at the absurdity of this situation, but felt incapable of doing just that, still too shocked to even attempt a grin. She also felt like this could be some kind of trick of getting her to do something she didn't want to do. That scenario seemed way more plausible. Or maybe this was a twisted way of Malfoy to torture her or disrespect her. Maybe he made a bet with someone. Get to Granger when she is most vulnerable, here, all alone, on Valentine's Day. The fact the he could possible need her help seemed too improbable. It was simply not possible. For that to happen, the world needed to be upside down, the earth had to rotate off its axis and the sky had to be green or red or purple. Draco Malfoy coming to her for help… This simply didn't happen.

She considered every possible scenario, trying to analyse his proposal in detail and still could not understand his true intentions. She needed more information.

"You haven't told me what for."

"What?"

"What for. Why do you need my help and what for?"

Draco pondered for a moment, thinking of an appropriate answer, one that wouldn't sound so silly. But what could he say? He only had one reason and even if he could find a way to say it without making it seem ridiculous, it was still just that: ridiculous. He had already admitted this to himself, might as well admit it to her. And if her response didn't match his expectations or his likings, he would make her suffer for that. Yes, that seemed reasonable.

"The essay. It is due tomorrow and…"

"What essay? Snape's?" She asked, now really confused. An essay? He needed help with a Potion's essay? But Potions was his favourite subject and it was also lectured by his favourite teacher. And he was Snape's favourite pupil! Was she missing something?

He simply nodded.

"But… Wha… Why?"

"For Merlin's sake, Granger. Want me to spell it out for you?" He asked, beginning to get annoyed.

"No, Malfoy. I'm just saying it's weird since you do well in Potions and you are like Snape's protégée." She clarified.

"That doesn't mean anything. Snape doesn't favour me in that way."

Right, Malfoy and when cows lie down, it rains!

She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"What?" he scowled.

"Nothing." She replied, still shaking her head. "So, you are struggling with your essay and you come to ME for help. How thoughtful." She said sarcastically.

"Don't flatter yourself, Granger. I wouldn't, if didn't have to. You can surely notice the measurement of my despair in coming to YOU for help. But since, none of my fellow classmates are smart enough and I really don't want to flunk my, as you said it, 'favourite class', you were the only acceptable choice." Draco explained, the corners of his book beginning to curl upwards.

"Wait… Did you just say I was smart?" Merlin, what was wrong with the world today? Are you sure you are not dreaming? Are you, REALLY?

"Oh, just fuck off, Granger. Forget I asked." He said as he picked up his book and turned to walk away.

"Wait!" she called. He stopped, but didn't face her. "Ok, I'll help you."

What?

Hermione had just accepted to help Draco Malfoy, her nemesis, her tormenter and bully. Why? She wasn't sure herself. She still wasn't certain if this wasn't just some sort of scheme or joke, but the way he had asked her and looked at her, made her think otherwise.

He wasn't comfortable, she could say that much. He was SO not comfortable with this situation. And as he took a seat in front of her, his expression guarded, his body stiff, she knew that this was awkward and bizarre to him as well. Hermione could not begin to imagine how much pride he had to swallow, firstly to actually admit he needed help and secondly to come to her, of all people. She had no idea he cared this way about his marks, the information surprising her.

Truth was, what did she actually know about Draco Malfoy? She knew he came from a rich, Pureblood family and she knew he was a spoiled, little brat. She knew his father and how disgusting he was and she knew what they thought about her. She knew he enjoyed tormenting those he thought beneath him and she knew he hated losing or being bad at something. She knew he, sometimes, acted cowardly and selfishly, even towards the one's he considered his friends. And she knew he couldn't stand her, or Harry or Ron and he would do everything in his power to make their lives a tad arduous. But other than that, what did she truly know about Draco Malfoy?

She didn't know what he enjoyed, or what made him smile. She didn't know if he had ever liked someone for real. She heard about his conquests and how girls would talk about him, but he kept his private life just like that, private. She didn't know his favourite Quidditch player or where he spent his summers. And she certainly hadn't known he actually gave a damn about his education. She wasn't sure he knew how to read at all. Ok, that was lie, since he was behind her in all her classes. But… She did not know the boy in front of her at all, other from the façade he showed everyone. And that intrigued her.

And the fact that he came to her, asking for help, made her feel, dare she say it… good? Merlin, she knew it was stupid, but she couldn't help it. For years he had taunted her, called her out on her heritage, made her feel bad about herself. For years he had picked on her hair, her looks, her blood and for years he tried to make her feel exactly like something he swore she was: a filthy, little Mudblood. And now, finally, he was giving her a bit of recognition. Finally, he came to her for something he needed, looking past the fact that she was supposedly bellow him. And, yes, yes, it was silly of her to think like that. Hermione had confidence in herself, she knew exactly who she was and what she was capable of and she didn't need anyone's approval. But it felt bloody good to actually feel respected by someone of the Wizarding World who only thought of her as a little, tiny bug ready to be squashed. Yes, she felt respected. And that was a nice change of pace, for them anyway.

"Well, are we going to just sit here all night? I'd really appreciate if you would do what you said you would do, Granger. My beautiful face still needs some rest, so it can still be beautiful in the morning. Not that you would know what that is, of course, but please try to understand my pain. Not everyone was lucky enough to have been born with such a hideous appearance."

Yes, well, can't have everything, can you Hermione?

"Shut up, Malfoy." She retorted, returning her attention back to her book and her own essay "So, yes. Well, you do know what the essay is about, don't you?"

"Of course I do, Granger. I know you are used to being around those damned idiots, but I'm no Weasel or Potty. I already started. I'm just having some trouble in finding all those fucking Moonstone properties. Fucking absurd, if you ask me. Snape has finally lost his bloody mind."

"Well, have you looked through 'Magical Drafts and Potions'?" She pointed to another book resting on the table, visibly deciding on ignoring his witty remarks.

"No, I haven't." He said, looking over at the book she was referring to.

"Start there, then." She offered him the book, which he accepted. He took out various pieces of parchment from this own book and casually prepared himself to start taking some notes and write that awful essay.

Hermione was practically speechless, seeing him calmly reading the book and taking notes.

Weird didn't even begin to describe this situation. It was strangely odd and kind of creepy, the two of them sitting together in an abandoned library.

She wondered if she should tell them, Harry, Ron or even Ginny. She doubted they would even believe her. The Slytherin Prince sitting at her table, needing her help. It was completely unheard of! She wondered if she should say something more, give him some tips, but apart from all his faults, she had to give in to the notion that Draco Malfoy was actually an intelligent person. He had an eloquent speech when he wanted to or when he wasn't too busy degrading himself with his two goonies.

Hermione didn't understand that. If he was so smart, how could he handle being around those two cardboard heads? She sometimes had a tough time with Harry and Ron – especially Ron – she couldn't even imagine how Malfoy must feel like after a twenty second conversation with Crabbe and Goyle.

And then she remembered another interesting, bizarre point.

It was Valentine's Day.

She knew why she was alone, in a library, doing school work on a Valentine's Day. But, what was Malfoy's excuse? She had seen him around Parkinson a lot, lately. Rumour was it they were now an item. And she already knew he had had his conquests, which he keeps private. But, wasn't Valentine's Day a kind of sacred day for – as other girls constantly referred him as – The Slytherin Sex God?

Hermione blushed embarrassed. Merlin, why was she thinking about this now? He was sitting right in front of her, seemingly concentrated on his work, as she should be doing herself and she was wondering about Malfoy's sex life? The earth had definitely decided to take a spin around the moon!

"Whatever it is you are pondering about, Granger I suggest you just ask or that ugly head of yours is just going to detonate."

He didn't even look up from his work. How did he know she was staring? Or thinking about him for that matter?

Bloody jerk.

Should she answer? Should she tell him? No. He would merely dismiss her question. But she was so curious. Was she? Did she even want to know these things? Merlin, she had just wanted a calm night, buried in all her books, brooding away her sorrows.

"For fucks sake, just ask!" He snarled, now looking at her.

"I was… I was just wondering, how come you are here tonight, on Valentine's Day." She answered quietly.

Merlin, Hermione. You really need to learn to just shut up.

"Interesting question, Granger. What? Are you thinking I came here to spend the night in your lovely company? Didn't know you fancied me." He seemed to forget about his work for a moment and reclined back in his chair, eyeing her fully.

Hermione blushed harder, if possible "What? No! Merlin, no! That is not what I meant at all."

"So what did you mean? Are you actually trying to pry on my love life?"

He was smirking amusedly, a wicked aura radiating from him.

"No. I don't care about your love life. It was just mere curiosity." She stammered. Merlin, you are making a fool out of yourself and he is enjoying it. Shut up already! "Never mind though. Forget I asked."

Hermione pretended to go back to her work, feeling more embarrassed by the minute, unable to look at him anymore.

Draco was amused. Draco was very amused.

Straitlaced Granger asking about his sex life? Oh, this was simply too good to pass up. Who would have thought that Granger even knew what sex was? Ok, maybe that was an exaggeration. Although she was a stuck-up, know it all, bitchy Mudblood, even he was admitting that she was, first and foremost, a girl. And girls knew about sex, obviously. They would differ on the level of knowledge per say and Granger might have some theoretical knowledge, since she spent so much time with her eyes glued to a book. But practical knowledge? Draco scoffed at that. Highly doubtful. Yes, there had been that Krum bloke, but he seriously doubted that he had been anywhere near Granger's impenetrable knickers. Who would want to be near her knickers anyway?

 _You do._

Draco Malfoy growled angrily at himself.

No.

There would be no thinking about her knickers or everything about her. He told that annoying voice in his head to shut it. She was a fucking Mudblood and she was fucking Granger. I mean, look at her! She wasn't even that good-looking, with her bushy hair and tight-up little attitude. And he wouldn't dare to think what her body would look like, underneath those robes of hers.

 _She has nice legs._

. . .

He growled again, feeling pretty repelled with himself right now. It was the hormones. It had to be. He was a teenage boy and at this stage everything that walked and moved could be potential lay meat. But, Granger… Granger had to be the exception. He had to stay the fuck away from her. What would his father say if he found out his son was having lustful thoughts about a Mudblood? And why was he even having those thoughts in the first place? She was fucking Granger! She was not even merely attractive, lacking the sex-appeal he looked for in a woman. She wouldn't know what to do with the word seduction if it came flying straight at her face. And that snobbish attitude of hers. The way she thought she was smarter than everybody else, the way she pranced around in that school skirt, clearly oblivious to the fact that she had finally grown into the body of a young woman. They way those two dorks would follow her around, drooling at her appearance. Yeah, he had noticed that. The Weasel sometimes dared a peak at her cleavage, when she had the nerve to have one. And she was so daft about it all, only caring about books and school essays and elves and justice.

And she had the nerve to slap him, in front of the entire Great Hall, because he had been bold enough to just… pipe her the fuck down.

He wasn't a fucking fool. Granger would seldom do anything to improve her image. So when she appeared that morning, with sleek hair and make-up on her face, he knew. He knew she was trying to get someone's attention. And he didn't like it. He fucking didn't like it.

But why the fuck should he care? He shouldn't fucking care. She was a Mudblood. She didn't deserve to have anything with any Wizard who was above her. Mudbloods didn't dress up. Mudbloods didn't deserve to be or feel pretty. Mudbloods shouldn't be allowed to even copulate with another Wizard. And fuck if he was going to allow that.

Fuck her and her tamed hair and her legs and her skirts and her pouty, red lips.

So, yes, he decided to give her a taste of her own medicine. If she wanted to be noticed, she would be. And pumpkin juice wasn't that bad, actually. He should have shamed her with something ickier. He should have done something worse. He really should have. And even after that, she had the fucking nerve to slap him?

Oh, Granger. How I fucking hate you.

And yet, here I am, admitting to needing your help.

No. Not need. She was a tool. She was a pawn. She was merely here to help him achieve something.

Mudbloods weren't supposed to be this smart, but she was and she should feel grateful that he would even consider asking for her help. She should be thankful that he would acknowledge that she wasn't that useless after all. Yes, she should be thanking him and not the other way around. She wasn't doing him a favour, he was giving her a reason to feel proud about herself in helping a far more superior Wizard. Yes, she should feel pride in even being in his presence. She should feel grateful that he wasn't vomiting with disgust right now, just because he could smell her fucking perfume.

 _And it smells nice._

Fucking shut up!

Draco tried to go back to his work, trying to focus on anything but the stupid witch before him, but he simply couldn't concentrate. He kept going back to everything he had just thought about and how she was close to him and smelled like vanilla.

Fuck.

He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes, trying to block all these images that were suddenly spurring through his mind. Why had he come here? Why did he need help on this fucking essay? Why did he even care about this fucking essay? He was trying to what? Prove to Snape that he actually deserved his favouritism? Prove to him that he wasn't a total imbecile? Prove that he could actually join Voldemort if the time came?

Fuck. Fuck. Ten times fuck.

"Malfoy, are you ok?"

He opened his eyes and she was staring at him again, with those brown, Bambi eyes full of confusion. Of course he wasn't ok. He should be shagging someone. He should be letting Pansy suck him off, Merlin knows she offered several times. He should be covering a girls' tits with cream and eat away like it was delicious candy. It was fucking Valentine's Day and he was here, with Mudblood Granger, thinking about her fucking legs.

Twenty times fuck.

It was all her fault. Fucking, Granger.

He needed to do something. Something to show her how truly disgusting she really was. Something to keep the balance, to show her just how wrong she was. He needed to prove these thoughts were wrong, that they were all wrong. More than prove it to her, he needed to prove it to himself.

Yes. She needed a lesson.

And, suddenly, Draco Malfoy came out with a plan, a cunning plan. A diabolical plan that would leave Hermione Granger wishing she hadn't helped him in the first place. Oh yes, it would do nicely.

And the devious grin returned.

Hermione kept staring at him, uncomfortable at his constant mood swings. One minute he was growling at himself and now he was smiling wickedly. She couldn't keep up.

"I'm curious about your curiosity, Granger. Why would you want to know if I had plans for Valentine's Day?"

Hermione gulped.

"Well, I… I thought… Well Pansy –"

"What about Pansy?"

Why was she even answering him? Was she that bored, really?

"Well, she's your girlfriend isn't she?"

Draco scoffed, enjoying her alluring deductions "Yes, Pansy can be considered my" and his hands made a quote-like sign "girlfriend. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Isn't she upset that you aren't spending the day with her?"

"How do you know I haven't spent the day with her? In case you haven't noticed, Granger, it is quite late."

Hermione felt like an idiot. True, he could have spent the day with her, naturally, and then come here to finish his essay. Not everyone was dateless like you, Hermione. And the fact that even Malfoy had someone to spend this day with, annoyed her. Life could be cruel, sometimes.

When she didn't respond, he continued "You meant what? Why am I not shagging her senseless, right now?"

Hermione flushed red almost instantly. Ok, this conversation was officially over. She was not going to discuss Malfoy's bed habits. Not now, not ever.

"I didn't mean anything, Malfoy. As I said before, I was just curious. Now, let's just go back to work."

Malfoy noticed that she was extremely uncomfortable. And that pleased him very much. Oh no, Granger. How could I ever think about going back to work, when I have such good entertainment right in front of me?

"Would it tranquillize you to know that I was doing just that before coming here?"

Hermione had just turned eleven shades of red.

No, Malfoy. It doesn't. It just makes me all the more embarrassed. How could he be so crude about this?

"And that she enjoyed it? She enjoyed it very, very much."

We get the point, Malfoy. Just shut up.

"Would it make you happy to know her needs are being met? The proof for that being the way she screams my name, when we –"

"Ok, that's enough, Malfoy. I don't need to hear the details. Like I said, forget I asked. Let's just finish this so we can call it a night." She said, taking a hold of her quill again.

Oh no, Granger. We are just getting started.

"Well, since you asked me a question and I gave you an answer, it is only fair that you would do the same for me." He said, coolly reclining in his chair.

"What?" She asked, eyebrows burrowed in confusion.

"Answer me a question, Granger."

This is where your curiosity leads you, Hermione. Remember that. Always remember that.

She deliberated for a moment. What could he possibly want to know? Draco Malfoy didn't find anything she had to say interesting, so what could he possibly want to ask? She would regret this, she was sure of it. He was going to ask some embarrassing question and laugh in her face, afterwards. Or he was just going to make her look like a fool. Either way, she was still damn curious about all of this. About this strange interaction with Malfoy. Oh, what the heck!

"Ok, fine."

He smirked again, chuckling softly.

Yep, regretting it already.

Then he stopped laughing and his smirk vanished, to be replaced with a somewhat stern expression.

"Why are you here on Valentine's Day?"

She had been expecting some cruel, inappropriate question, but not this. This was ten times more humiliating. Explain to Draco Malfoy that she was here because she was this dateless monster, who no one seemed to find fitting to date? Explain that she had never spent Valentine's Day with anyone, apart from Krum last year and all he did was give her a big, box of chocolates, groping her behind in a mop closet? Not likely.

"Well, I needed to finish the essay, just like you. My date is waiting for me to go back, so we can celebrate properly."

And that was the lamest lie ever.

If she was the one in Malfoy's place she would have rolled on the floor laughing. Merlin, she was pitiful. No wonder she was a dateless monster.

And Malfoy obviously seemed to look right through her lie, Hermione knowing her face was always like an open book.

"I didn't take you for a liar, Granger."

She mocked "You are one to talk."

"I didn't lie earlier. I haven't lied to you ever since I came in here." He said sitting straight and returning to his notes "Oh well, guess I was wrong about you. You are right. Let's just finish the essay."

How Draco Malfoy managed to make her feel like crap, even though he was the most vile, insufferable human being at this table right now, drove her insane. The nerve of him! She wasn't a liar! If anyone here was a fucking liar, it was him! Now she almost felt obliged to come clean. How the fuck did he do that?

"Fine. I lied. But I'm no liar, Malfoy." She conceded, hoping to spark his interest again. And why did she want his interest? Merlin, she was clearly insane.

He didn't look up from his work, ignoring her.

Ok, now he is giving her the silent treatment? Argh!

"Ok, fine! I'm dateless, ok? I have no one to spend this day with so I came to the library to be by myself." She explained, her face feeling like a red tomato, which probably was.

That seemed to do it. Malfoy looked up from his work, giving her his full attention. Inside he was grinning like crazy. Oh, Merlin she was too easy.

Her eyes wouldn't face him, looking down at her essay. He noticed that she was absently biting her bottom lip, probably a nervous tick. The action brought his attention to her full, plump lips. They were nice lips, very nice actually. Malfoy enjoyed girls with full lips that he could bite on. Lips that would be easy enough to lick. Lips that would look so luscious around his –

Ok, stop right there. You are getting worked up over Granger's fucking lips. Get it together, Draco.

He cleared his sore throat and she peeked at him from under her lashes. Wasn't he going to say anything? All this fuss for nothing? If she would have known she would have never –

"I never did like Valentine's Day. It's a waste if you ask me. All this running around to buy a gift and feel like you have to prove your love for someone else. Why make a day especially for something that is supposedly every day of the year, when you are with someone you like? Why have a fucking day to show affection? If you feel it, you should show it whenever and wherever you fucking like it."

Was Draco Malfoy talking about love and feelings? And was Draco Malfoy trying to make her feel better about not having someone on Valentine's Day? Could things get any weirder? Hermione was stunned. And he knew it, since he gave a short sarcastic, laugh before saying:

"What? I can't talk about these things? Just because I'm the bad, prince of Slytherin, doesn't mean I don't have feelings, Granger."

Draco Malfoy had feelings. This was too much information for her brain right now.

"And as much as I would rather be shagging Pansy, I can do that any other time. And she knows that. She doesn't need fucking flowers and candy to know how I feel about her. I tell her every day."

Draco was enjoying this too much. The look on her face was priceless. Oh, Merlin! He was having too much fun with this. Who knew Granger could be such a blast? She was so gullible! If Pansy were here, she would be so fucking angry. Of course he doesn't care at all about fucking Pansy. She is only there to serve his pleasure, the only reason he has shagged her more than once being she was an easy lay, always ready to please him and spread her legs for him.

Of course, Granger doesn't know that. Right now, for all she knew, he loved Pansy. And that was hilarious as fuck.

Hermione really didn't know what to say next, her brain going into overload. This conversation was getting so peculiar, she doubted anything could ever top this as one of the oddest moments of her life.

"But, enough about me, Granger. I have to say I'm surprised you don't have someone special on this day. Thought that Weasel would have made a move by now."

"Who? Ron?" She laughed "You are clearly mistaken, Malfoy. I don't think about Ron that way and neither does he."

"And you are clearly daft if you don't see what is right in front of you. How Weasel manages to keep the drool in his mouth is what is truly impressive."

"What the hell are you talking about?" she questioned, having no idea what he was on about.

"Don't play fool, Granger. We know that lying isn't your forte. Everyone sees the way he looks at you or how he tries to look up your skirt when you climb up the stairs."

"What? He does not!" she squirmed, somewhat distressed by that information. Ron looked up her skirt? What?

He snickered "Keep telling yourself that."

Did Ron really look up her skirt? No. Malfoy was obviously messing with her. Of course, there have been moments when Ron would look at her for a while longer or when his hand would accidentally brush hers and he would turn into a blabbering idiot. But she had dismissed it all. They were friends. They were best friends. Her, Harry and Ron. That was it. There was nothing more to it. Malfoy was just messing with her.

Ron was a guy. And sometimes guys would look at you in certain ways, right? And since she was with them all the time, it was only natural, right? They weren't blind. She wasn't blind either. She knew her boys were, what you say, attractive. But apart from that notion, it felt weird thinking about them in any other way. So, Ron looking up her skirt was just Malfoy, being Malfoy and clearly seeing bad intentions in every one. Ron was just probably, seeing if her skirt was wrinkled. Yes, that was it.

"Although, I do understand where he is coming from. You do look nice in that skirt."

Wait… What?

"What?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat.

Draco's inside grin just turned deadly. Oh yeah, bingo.

"Oh come on, Granger. Don't tell me you are this ignorant? You have a nice figure. It is only normal for guys to stare at it."

Hermione was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open and she was looking like a fool, but she couldn't seem to close it. Her brain finally went into overload, her body not responding to her mind. So, Draco Malfoy, had asked her for help, complimented her on her intelligence, tried to smooth her insecurities about Valentine's Day and was now saying she was good-looking?

"Are you sure I'm talking to Draco Malfoy?"

He genuinely laughed at that one. And Hermione gaped harder. He was laughing? Like truly laughing? A real laugh, not a smirk or snicker. Draco Malfoy was really laughing. And it wasn't even an ugly, pestering, annoying laugh. It was melodic and manly, all at the same time. She had made Draco Malfoy laugh. That notion made her heart swell and she wasn't sure why it did, but it did.

He seemed to calm down after a few moments, his hands coming up to straighten what was left of his now completely un-gelled hair, leaving it messy and wild. And as he was smiling like that, Hermione Granger noticed, for the first time, how handsome he was. She had evidently noticed that before, some of her friends stating the same obvious truth years and years ago. Draco Malfoy was handsome. He was very handsome. His skin was pale, but looked soft like a baby. His figure was lean, but not too thin, his Quidditch years were finally paying off, and he now had some muscles to show. His blonde hair was even prettier when he didn't gelled it back, just like he was now. And his eyes… Draco Malfoy had these grey, penetrating eyes that could sparkle in delight but turn you into stone cold, all at the same time. No wonder girls would fall at his feet, begging for an ounce of his attention.

But, as much as she gave him points for appearance, he certainly lacked other qualities. He was rude, obnoxious, prejudiced, arrogant, childish, mean, amongst so many other things. And that is why he would never capture her attention like that. Also, he thought she was dirt, so.

Hermione seemed to have finally come to her senses about all of this. He was toying with her. He was Malfoy. He would never give her a thought of day, much less think about her being attractive.

"Seriously, Malfoy. You can stop the charade. Whatever it is you are doing, it is not going to work. I'm not falling for it." She said in a more thoughtful tone.

His smile fell, a weary expression replacing it.

"I'm not doing anything, Granger. I'm just being honest."

"Honesty doesn't suit you."

Draco thought about taking this onto another direction. He wasn't ready to give up on her lesson just yet. For that, he needed her where she had been: completely dazed about what was going on. He had noticed the way she had looked at him, when he was laughing. She was entranced, probably feeling good about herself because she had made him enjoy her company. He needed her to be fascinated at the situation, marvelling at his actions. And he also needed to make her blush more often.

 _She looks adorable when she blushes_.

Oh, for fucks sake. Not again. Fucking zip it!

He cleared his thoughts as he leaned over the table, coming closer to her. Her eyes widen, almost two times their natural size. Yes, that's it. That is how I need you, Granger. That's it. Look at me.

He held her gaze as he continued to scoot forward on his chair, his hands coming down under the table. She was biting her lip again, her eyes big and wide. Her breath picked up the pace and if he concentrated long enough, he was sure he could hear her heart beating faster. That's it, Granger.

When his fingers first made contact with her left knee, Hermione's first reaction was to jump slightly at the contact. Her heart was beating frenetically, blood pumping through her veins, up to her ears. What was he doing? What the hell was he doing?

They didn't do this. This wasn't normal.

What was he doing?

Then, his other hand came to rest over her right knee. His hand was warm, too warm. Since it was mid-February, Hermione had decided to skip full-length stockings, opting for one's that came just bellow the knee. So, it meant that Draco Malfoy was touching her bare legs, under the table.

She was trying to control her erratic heart, through her breathing. In the midst of it all, her mouth had slightly opened and her eyes were still looking back at his. She couldn't look away. The way he was looking at her, like he was trying to decipher her every thought… no one had ever looked at her like that before. Merlin, what the fuck is he doing? And what is she doing? Get him off you. Why aren't you removing his hands?

Her skin was softer than he imagined, her legs a bit cold, a consequence from the chilly air in the library. And as he sat there, with his hands on Hermione Granger's bare legs, he couldn't seem to process why he was doing all of this in the first place. How she hadn't backed away and give him another punch was a mystery to him. Instead, she was holding his gaze, breathing rapidly, her mouth in a small 'O'. From this angle he could make out every detail of her face, from her pouty lips to her big eyelashes. The way her eyes weren't all brown, but a mixture of chocolate almond. How her petit nose would scrunch up when in doubt and how, unpredictably, her tongue would lick her inner, bottom lip.

He wanted more. He wanted to see more.

The fingers on her left knee began to softly travel their way up her leg, reaching the hem of her skirt. That damn skirt.

That's it, Granger. Keep up with me. Follow my lead.

Hermione was certain she could no longer hide the way she was breathing, which turned laboured. Her eyes were still as wide as they could be and she almost refused to blink. He was still looking at her, as his hand made his way under her skirt.

Draco Malfoy was touching her, under her skirt.

He was touching her.

He was touching her under her skirt.

And she was letting him.

The other hand that was resting on her right knee woke up as well, coming around her leg, resting itself on the back of her thigh, close to the chair she was sitting on. And it suddenly gave her a light squeeze, to which she almost yelped in reply.

Draco's own breathing was beginning to pick up the pace. Hmm, definitely not dirty or filthy. Not at all. Her skin was even softer and he was surprised with what felt to be a toned leg. Yes, she had fucking nice legs.

More. He wanted more.

The hand that was under her skirt ventured higher and higher until he was reaching a point he knew he could go no further, without her direct approval. He may be a Slytherin. He may be the son of Lucius Malfoy and he may be a fucking tosser, but he wasn't a rapist. No. He would never, ever, force himself onto a woman. Although he sometimes liked it a bit rough, he always had them willingly. And Granger, on that matter, wasn't the exception.

And there she was, looking at him, eyes unblinking, mouth opened, her breath coming out in pants. He could easily deduce that no one had had their hand under her skirt yet, from the way she was acting. This baffled him. He suddenly felt some kind of primal accomplishment, for being the first one to touch her like this. But if he was wrong and if he wasn't that also worked him up, but in a jealous sort of way.

Fuck.

What the fuck was happening?

They sat like that for ages, Malfoys hands on her legs, one under her skirt, pretty close to where her thigh met her torso and the other one resting on the back of her right leg, over the junction where her knee met her thigh. And she would occasionally bit her lip, probably wondering if she should say something or why wasn't she doing anything. And he was still staring at her. Sometimes, his fingers would softly graze her skin and her breath would hitch on its own accord. And every time they did, they seemed to get a little closer to her knickers.

Merlin, what are you doing, Hermione? Stop him. Can't you see he is messing with you? Why else would he be touching you like this? You are filth to him, remember? He hates you and you hate him. This is fucking crazy. Stop him!

But she couldn't, her body long losing its ability to move.

And his fingers continued their exploration of her skin, closer and closer to end of their journey and Hermione couldn't bring herself to stop him. Was she actually enjoying this? Was she enjoying having Malfoy's fingers grazing her knickers?

Draco kept caressing her thigh, his turned to be entranced. Her eyes weren't as wide anymore. If anything, they were starting to get hazy. So, this was actually turning her on.

Fuck.

And as if on cue, her leg seemed to give in a little and parted to the left. Was she…?

He couldn't do anything but to oblige to her wishes and slowly, oh so very slowly, his fingers reached their destination and he softly touched, Granger's untouched pussy for the first time. And her eyes closed, not bearing to look at him any longer and he thought he had never seen anything so erotic in his entire life, as her mouth parted and a silent, soft moan formed in her throat.

Fuck, Granger.

Draco struggled to keep his control in check, this image certainly not helping his current state as he felt himself get hard at the feel of Granger's pussy through her knickers.

They were cotton. Fucking fantastic. He made a mental picture of Granger, with her legs opened for him, under the table, white, cotton knickers with a tint of wetness, waiting for him.

Fuck. Fuck. Thirty times fuck.

His index finger was feeling bold and decided to slowly travel up her slit and then down, feeling her outer lips parting with the motion.

Fuck.

She still had her eyes closed, her brows burrowed in concentration, another quiet moan leaving her throat.

Shit. Fucking shit, Granger. You are fucking killing me here.

Hermione was lost. She was lost in a place she didn't know. She was lost somewhere, her mind failing her, her senses overpowered. She was lost in a place she had read about, but never been. She was somewhere between nowhere and anywhere. And as one of his fingers maintained this motion, this up and down, up and down, up and down, she couldn't get away from that place. She was lost, trapped. She couldn't get out.

A pause. She wondered why he had paused, still too lost in it to think clearly. His finger had paused only to rub the place where it had paused. And oh, Merlin. It was like a shock going through her body. Like someone had just plugged her into this electric, pleasurable current. And she moaned. And it wasn't all that quiet this time. And he seemed to like that, so he did it again. Oh fuck, again, that deep current. That wonderful sensation.

Draco was hypnotized, for a lack of better word to describe it. He was hypnotized by the exoticness that was Hermione Granger. The way she responded to him, the way her legs seemed to give in and the way she would moan when his finger would rub her clit. Fuck. He was hard. So hard. He had never been so hard in his life. And it was all for fucking Granger.

Fucking Mudblood Granger.

Yes, a Mudblood.

You are touching a filthy Mudblood.

What would your father say if he saw you now, getting all worked up over some Mudblood's bloody knickers?

Draco widen his eyes and his fingers stopped their motions.

What the fuck was he doing? Since when had this become so fucked up? He was meant to be teaching her lesson. He was meant to be showing her how dirty she was, how ugly. This was supposed to be vengeance. Vengeance for the punch, the slap. Vengeance for her thinking she was better than him. Vengeance for all those times she had popped up in his head, when he was shagging someone else. Vengeance for her not living down to her own standards. This was meant to be a fucking lesson.

He was supposed to work her up, leave her wanting and humiliated; prove to her that she was nothing more than a whore, who would spread her legs for anyone. Prove that she was so fucking filthy, her thighs would feel rough and hurt his hands. Prove that he wouldn't be affected by her knickers or her pussy, that it would only repulse him. Prove that she deserved to be alone, that there wouldn't be a chance on earth that anyone would want to touch something so foul. And prove to himself that all his thoughts were wrong, that she was an abomination.

Except he was one who was currently feeling like an abomination. His cock was twitching painfully, his hands up her fucking skirt, his fingers craving so much more. And all for a fucking Mudblood.

Fuck, he was a disgrace to his name.

And just like that he stopped touching her and removed his hands, like they had been burned.

Hermione seemed to wake up from her trance as soon as felt Mafloy's hands leaving her legs. She was flustered, hot and still a bit dazed. Her throat was dry and her tongue wetted her lips. Slowly, she opened her eyes, only to discover that Malfoy was quickly standing up, gathering his things. Her brain was trying to process what had happened during this past hour, her thoughts still too fuzzy, just like her eyes. She thought about something to say, but couldn't come up with anything. What could she possible say? She doubted she could even speak right now.

She looked up at him, just as he was preparing to leave. She couldn't read his expression, but she noticed that a slight scowl was appearing on his features. Was he… Was he mad at something?

Draco gathered all his stuff, feeling the extreme urgency to get out of there. Get away from all of this. Get away from this table, get away from this library, get away from her. His head was muddled, his cock still hard and his fingers faintly smelled of her scent. Fuck, he needed to get out of here. He needed get out of here, now.

He turned his back and was just taking his first step to freedom when he halted.

He should say something. He should definitely say something. He should clear up the situation. He should punish her for clouding up his mind with these disgusting thoughts. He should do something. He should say something.

He should remind her just how filthy she was. He should tell her all the things he had wanted to tell her in the first place. He should. He definitely should. What if she used this against him? What if she told anyone? His reputation would be forever ruined. Would she say something? Would she tell Potty or fucking Weasel? No, she wouldn't. That would also make her look bad, right? She wouldn't' say anything. She was going to be too ashamed. Too ashamed to even think about it, much less talk about it. Yes, she wouldn't say anything. And neither would he. He wouldn't speak a word about this to anyone, not even to himself. This one would follow him to his grave. And he expected her to do the same.

"If you tell anyone about this, Granger, I'll personally make sure no one touches your filthy, Mudblood knickers, ever again."

Hermione didn't have a chance to reply, as he walked away and left her there, with her legs spread under the table, her skirt above her thighs.

She didn't know what to say. She didn't know anything, right now. Her brain had shut down on her and all she could feel was this prickling sensation of guilt, humiliation and shame, all at once.

She looked down at the book he had left on the table, the book she had offered him so he could finish up his essay, that fucking essay. She looked down at that book as tears began to form in her eyes, her mouth still dry, her legs still opened and her core still tingling and warm. Tingling for him, warm for him. She was shamefully aroused by none other than Draco Malfoy. She was aroused for him, for the big, bad prince of Slytherin. For the one person who despised her, for the one who tormented her ever since he had laid his eyes on her. For the one that called her Mudblood, time and time again. She was aroused by him.

Draco Malfoy just had his hands up her skirt and she enjoyed it. She fucking enjoyed it.

A single tear fell down her face.

No, Malfoy. I will never tell anyone about this. No one will ever know, not even myself. I don't want to know. I want to forget.

This never happened.

This never happened.

This never happened.

Hermione kept repeating this in her head, until her legs hurt, until her tears dried and until the sun began to rise in the horizon.

No, this never happened.

This never happened.

This never happened.

This never happened.

* * *

 **My favourite chapter so far. Loved writing this. I apologize for the length, but I couldn't stop. It was based on a personal, similar experience I had when I was in high school *naughty***

 **I hope you are having a fantastic day, wherever you are! Thank-you for reading and suggestions and critiques are welcomed :)  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Yellow! How was your weekend? I'm almost done with this semester, finally! Summer time!**

 **Hope you enjoy the update!**

 **Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I would have bought an island by now.**

* * *

 **Year 2003, June  
The Ministry of Magic**

"Why is it taking so long? For someone who seemed so adamant to talk, he sure has a lot to say."

Lupin merely shrugged at her question.

"I mean, surely it must have ended by now. Why hasn't Kingsley reported back to us?"

Again, a shrug.

"Don't mind giving your opinion any time soon, Lupin. I'm doing just fine rambling all by myself." Hermione said sarcastically.

He looked at her from the chair he was seated on. He had one of his arms on the armrest, his hand holding his head, as he seemed to be in deep concentration. Or, from another point view, incredibly bored.

"I don't have anything to say, Hermione."

"Fine." She scowled, still pacing restlessly in front of her desk, in her office. "We'll just have to wait then."

The older wizard didn't respond, returning to his apparent moping.

Hermione sighed softly, knowing he must be taking this sudden Malfoy appearance, rather badly. After all, Malfoy's family was partially responsible for the death of his wife; for family you'd assume Bellatrix. Hence this brooding and scepticism. She was surprised on how he managed to keep quiet during the entire interrogation. She knew Lupin. She knew he was this amazing, serene man, with a lot of deep insight about anything and everything. The fact that he didn't even once express his opinion, since this all ordeal started, was baffling. But then again, she also knew that the murder of Tonks had changed him completely, leaving a scar so deep it would take years and years to heal… and it would never scar completely, she knew that.

The first few years had been really tough on him, even with little Teddy there to give him some support, one way or another. But Lupin would hardly go anywhere, would hardly talk to anyone. Until one day, he just snapped and let himself change.

He disappeared during the full moon, no one knowing where he had gone. She remembers how Harry tried desperately to track him down, to prevent him from doing a horrible mistake. She remembers how she had stayed home, with little Teddy, Molly by their side, trying to sooth him. He was months old, thankfully unable to remember how his father had gone temporarily insane one time, leaving him all alone in their house, during the night. Luckily, he had transformed after he'd gone. What knows what could have happened if Lupin had transformed still inside their house. Hermione's heart tighten just thinking about it.

They found him later that night, hunting in the woods, howling like a beast in pain. Fortunately, no one got hurt and they managed to capture him with barely a few scratches, Neville being the worst with a broken wrist. They contained Lupin back at the Ministry and for three nights he remained incarcerated. Hermione could still remember the loud, painful, cries.

Even in his werewolf form, Lupin was still grieving, rather agonisingly, the death of his beloved.

He had howled and howled for three days straight, until the morning of the fourth day, when they had encountered him, on the floor of his cell, where he had fainted due to the exhaustion, back to his human form.

Hermione knew that besides carrying the pain of the loss of his wife, Lupin now carried the guilt of having left his son. And that had changed him, forever.

Of course, after the incident – if you could call it that – Lupin devoted himself entirely to his son, making sure little Teddy knew everything he could know about his late mother and embraced his role as a full-time daddy. And that made him really happy, truly. Hermione adored them and their relationship. Lupin saw Tonks in Teddy and he loved his son so deeply, it sometimes hurt to watch. But she also knew Lupin needed something more in his life. He needed his companion, the love of his life who was so unfairly taken away from him. Lupin had become a damaged man and even after five years since the final Battle, he was still fully grieving.

She honestly thought that this deal with Malfoy, would spur him up a bit, even if he became upset or angry. Lupin deserved some closure, even if he felt he would never get it. Hermione believed that he had wanted to avenge the death of his wife, but Molly got to Bellatrix first. Part of him doesn't hold it against her, obviously, but there was still a tiny part of him that had wanted to Avada Bellatrix into hell. And it vexed him that he couldn't.

He was accepted as an Auror, in the Ministry, after his brave performance in the final Battle, a job he didn't want to accept at first, but felt compelled too, to pay a certain homage to Tonks. And he had become a fine Auror, one of the best. He and Harry made the perfect team, even if Ron kept saying Harry always preferred to work with him, but Hermione had a feeling that some tint of jealously was present in Ron's statement.

Still, Lupin's behaviour at the interrogation had confused her.

He was one of the first ones to always leap forward to his tasks, without any hesitation or fear. And recently, he had seemed to be returning more to his old self again, Harry mentioning his little flirt with the maid. He even cracked a few jokes, something which was very rare nowadays, the only time that would happen would be when he was around Teddy. Yes, Lupin seemed to be finally starting to move on with his life and accept his loss.

And then idiot Malfoy came along.

And Lupin seemed so indifferent about it, so pensive. Maybe he was trying to block it all out. Maybe it was easier this way, to just shut down Malfoy's presence and ignore him.

Even though Lupin didn't held Malfoy directly responsible for the murder of his wife, he surely held some kind of grudge against him. It was Malfoy, son of Lucius, nephew to Bellatrix, Death Eater of Voldemort's army. But, Hermione knew that Lupin still had this powerful sense of honour and respectfulness. If anyone would ever truly forgive Malfoy for everything, she believed it would be Lupin. He was a good man, better than any of them and she would say that proudly, to anyone.

She looked at the clock on the wall, near the window in her office. It was almost noon and no sign of Malfoy or Kingsley. Ron and Harry had disappeared off to Merlin knows where, probably too crossed to stay and wait for anything at all. Robards went back to his office, cursing all the way there. And Malfoy was left alone in the interrogation room with Kingsley, just as he had suggested.

After returning from the Auror department, where her resolve to try and make amends with her husband turned up blank, she decided to go and wait in her office. Midway there she found Lupin in one of the corridors staring blankly at a wall. She compelled him to come with her so they could keep each other company. The thought of having someone there with her made her feel slightly better and the chances of once more breaking down and having one of her hyperventilating sessions dissipated. It was for the best.

At least this way, she had to keep herself focused more on what was truly happening and not on her feelings.

Hermione knew that seeing Malfoy again was somewhat… She couldn't even find the word for it. Seeing him again had been tough. It had been emotions dancing all around. It had been raw, exciting and puzzling all at the same time. She had no idea how she managed to still keep a straight face after being just about two feet from Malfoy. But she had, she did it. No one noticed her, too busy cursing Malfoy's existing or trying to ignore him completely.

And the way he had been looking at her legs...

She shivered involuntary.

Draco Malfoy was at the Ministry, talking about Death Eaters and looking at her legs. How did it get so fucked up?

And why would he even stare at her legs? It had been years since that last happened! Years since she had seen him, talked to him, touched him. Years since all of that came crashing down on her, since he left without a word. Years and years and more years.

And now he was back. And he had stared at her, directly into her eyes and Merlin, how much had he said with just one look. Just one look from Malfoy and she was gone. Vanished. Just one look and it was enough for her heart to double its pace, for her palms to start sweating, for her head to start spinning, for all her questions and unresolved answers to start infuriating her brain. And all it took was one look. One fucking look.

"How does he do it?"

"Sorry?"

Lupin's voice brought her back to reality. Here she was, thinking aloud again, her mouth moving on its own accord. Fucking Malfoy.

"Nothing! I mean… how does he do it? Just turn everything upside down?" she tried to cover it up.

"Draco always seemed to have that ability." Lupin responded, smiling slightly at her question.

Yes, he did. Draco Malfoy was a fucking pro when it came to manipulating and turning a situation into his advantage. Hermione had witnessed it many times and she herself had been caught in the crossfire.

She shivered again, memories long repressed trying to pry out.

Get it together. This isn't about you or Malfoy or anything alike for that matter. So, keep focused.

There was a slight knock on her door and it opened slowly, revealing a frowning Harry Potter. Hermione immediately went into work mode, stopping her pacing and waited anxiously for anything he had to say. But Harry said nothing, as he quietly took a seat next to Lupin's. He was alone, Ron nowhere in sight. Hermione figured he was still pissed off at everything, especially at her, so she didn't find it weird that Harry had come alone.

The three of them kept in silence for a few moments, before Hermione's impatience took the best of her.

"Any news?"

Harry looked at her, still frowning and shook his head.

"And Ron?"

"Went for a walk. He was… angry."

She snorted "Go, figure."

"Well, he had everyone reason to, don't you think?" Harry asked, rather harshly she noticed.

"Excuse me? How is Ron's anger my fault?"

"Oh, come on, Hermione! Malfoy right down humiliated him and you joined the party."

"I did no such thing! Ron was acting childishly and you and I both know it. He bloody well knows who we are dealing with. It was very unprofessional of him to lose his temper like that."

"And there you are again, defending that fucking wanker!" Harry exasperated "Seriously, Hermione. Sometimes I wonder on why you shield Malfoy so much, especially after what happened at the Mansion, at Hogwarts, at –"

"I don't fucking shield him!" she argued "I'm simply stating that Ron has to learn how to be the bigger person and not step down to Malfoy's level. Malfoy will always be a dick, doesn't mean my husband has to act the same way."

Harry scowled but resumed his silent frowning after that.

"I'm sorry he feels like I didn't stand by his side, but I can't back him up when I think he could have done things differently."

"That is not the point, Hermione. If you and I both know Malfoy is wanker, we also know that Ron loses his temper quickly, especially when provoked. It is not your duty as his wife to make him feel worse, but to try and understand his reasons."

"His reasons? There were six other people in that room, including Malfoy and my husband was the one that got tackled to the ground. I'm sorry if I'm not capable of getting tackled alongside him."

Harry sighed heavily "Fine, whatever. It is none of my business, anyway. Just talk to him, ok?"

"That is what I plan to do." She said defiantly. And next she added "And you are right. It is none of your business."

They exchanged a weary look between them, both of them too tired and anxious to be having this conversation, in the first place. Harry seemed to let it go for now, clearly not pursuing the discussion.

She hated to fight with Harry. He was like a brother to her, someone she could talk to and someone she knew would always be there for her. But he was very much like Ron sometimes and acted rather irrationally, not really capable of getting his personal feelings and thoughts out of the way. She knew Harry despised Malfoy, even though he was perfectly capable of having a civilized conversation with his former rival. That is until Malfoy started to throw some punches and when that happened, Harry would lose his patience rather quickly. Fortunately, he made the decision to leave, but the stress and resentment were pretty much evident on his face. He wasn't happy with this situation. He wasn't happy at all.

If Malfoy had somewhat been able to obtain information about these supposed gatherings, Harry would be the first one to put the blame on himself, firstly for not knowing about these assemblies in the first place and secondly for not being able to stop them in due time. And she also knew he felt rather frustrated that it had to be Malfoy, off all people, to bring this situation to his attention. This meant he wasn't doing his job right. Neither he nor his entire department. And that was enough for the boy, who always had the fate of the Wizarding World on his shoulders, to feel like he had failed, once again, in his duty to protect everyone. Which was ridiculous, she knew that. Harry was not responsible for any of this, but knowing him like she did, she wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't blaming himself right now, for this entire situation.

If he had been more careful, he would have noticed something unusual. He would have seen something, heard something. He would have done something to prevent it and this whole ordeal could have been avoided. Malfoy would have never come here and everything would go back to normal by now. But who was he kidding? These things were bound to happen, especially with a society with so many flaws and problems like the Wizard one.

Hermione was proud of being a witch, but she knew some wizards and witches could act pretty stupidly, especially when it came to Muggleborns or power and money. Harry just had to accept the fact that peace was short lived and even if they could all live in peace forever, there would always be some kind of bad loophole that would keep repeating itself, over and over again. And they had to deal with it. That was simply life. What goes around, comes around.

Silence filled the room again, the three of them not knowing what to say or do. Lupin had closed his eyes and seemed to be snoozing out, Harry just sat there looking at his feet and Hermione was now reclined against her desk, too nervous to even sit down. What is taking so fucking long?

She looked at the clock again and it was signalling a little past midday. Malfoy had been in there for more than three hours. What could he possibly have to say that would take so long? Was he really that informed? Did he have massive amounts of information? And that was good, right? It meant he knew about things and could be of assistance. And if that was true and if he seemed to know so much about it, how come this completely slipped past the Minister's radar? How was that possible? And for how long? For how long had they been ignorant about this whole situation?

Merlin, she was getting a headache.

She knew Malfoy really liked to hear himself talk, but this was too much. How the fuck does he –

"What was he like?"

She looked back at Harry, not sure if he was addressing her.

"What?"

"Malfoy." He said more firmly this time, still looking pensive at his feet "Back when we went to look for the Horcruxes, during the year right before the Battle… What was he like?"

Hermione's heart clenched impossibly.

Oh, Merlin. Why was he asking her that? What did it mean? Did he notice something? Was it her? What was happening?

"You know what he was like, Harry. Same old Malfoy, insufferable and evil."

"Yes, I know, but you never did told me what made him change… What made him change his mind, his beliefs. Everything."

Hermione took a deep breath, forcing her face to collaborate with her "I told you, Harry. He regretted it, all of it. Dumbledore, Voldemort… all of it."

"I know, but…"

"But what?" she interrupted. If there was one conversation Hermione Granger absolutely loathed, this was it. "I already told you. He was scared and confused and went down the wrong path. There really is nothing more to it."

"And why is he back? After the war, after he…"

Harry went silent and Hermione's heart clenched once again. It had been doing that a lot these past few days and it made her apprehensive about possible complications. Can someone die from a strained heart?

She didn't say anything as Harry seemed to lose himself in this thoughts. She didn't want to and she didn't dare to. She knew why he was so confused. If she was confused herself, with absolutely no idea what made Malfoy come back – or at least hoping she didn't know – she imagined Harry was ten times worse.

Hermione never explained to them specifically, what made Malfoy turn to the other side. What made him forget about his father and Voldemort and his beliefs. All they knew was what she told them at the time: that Malfoy had seen the error of his ways. That Snape had played a huge part in that and that he had helped Malfoy see some kind of light. That Malfoy had come back to Hogwarts and that he was a changed boy/man.

And he later proved her right. Draco had fought side by side with them during the battle, going against everything he once believed in. And she was so very proud of him. So, so, very proud.

Well, at least until he took out her heart from her chest, stomped on it, made it into a bloody mess and left without a word. But that part she left out, for obvious reasons. As she left out all of her previous interactions with Malfoy prior to the Battle.

And that was the piece that was missing, to why Malfoy seemed so willing to come back and help them again. She suspected that Harry saw his role on the final Battle as a one-time thing, as something he did out of necessity to not get condemned or sent to Azkaban. Harry thought Malfoy simply switched sides to save his own skin and not really because he had changed his ways. Hermione knew otherwise, but that was something she couldn't explain properly without omitting important details that would only fuel their anger.

Sometimes she wondered why she shouldn't just come clean. Why she couldn't go to Ginny or Harry and say "Hey look, I got involved with Draco during my final year. He turned into someone very special for me and I'm really proud of the man he became. But that is all in the past and he left and that left me heartbroken and I have moved on and I'm happy now again. Anyway, want some cake?"

She should be able to say that. They were her friends. And it happened ages ago… She was married now. She had this new life and Malfoy wasn't even a part of it. So why couldn't she just come clean? Why all the secrets?

 _Because it would destroy them. And your husband would never forgive you._

She exhaled deeply, the mere thought of Ron hating her guts too much to handle.

She could deal with this on her own. She had done it once before, after Malfoy had left and she had stayed back to pick up all the pieces of her heart, her friends', of everyone. Hermione trembled at the thought of those subsequent months after the battle. It was a dark period. Everyone was grieving their losses, even though they had won, it hardly felt like a victory.

She took a glance at Lupin who was still quietly sitting next to Harry. He lost someone very special to him during that battle. They all did. Everyone did. But she couldn't talk about it. Not with anyone. She was fated to silence. She would grieve Fred, Tonks, Snape, everyone. She grieved alongside with her friends and family. She grieved loudly, surrounded by people who understood all of her losses, more than anyone. But her heart was also grieving for someone else… and she couldn't grieve him publicly. So she was confined to her own space, her own head. And it almost destroyed her. If she wasn't Hermione Granger, she highly doubted she would have been able to come back from it all. But she did. And here she was, years later, working hard, living her life, married and surrounded by her loved ones.

So, she kept quiet. There was no need to dug up the past. She had worked very hard to come to be where she was now. And she would be fucking dammed if she would let Malfoy come in the way of that.

"Fuck this. I'm going to take a walk."

Harry shot up from his chair suddenly, looking quiet stressed. Lupin barely nodded in agreement at his little outburst and Hermione kept her arms crossed, not really having anything to say.

Just as Harry was about to open the door, the door opened from the other side and in came a very pissed looking Robards.

Hermione quickly changed her stance, uncrossing her arms and standing up straight, looking inquisitively at Robards. How did he know they were all gathered up here? Merlin, never mind that Hermione. Just ask him.

"Any news?" Harry beat her to it.

"Kingsley wants to talk to us. He is in his office." Robards answered with disdain.

Lupin got up quickly from his chair and with a curt nod to Hermione, joined Harry as they made their way through her office door. She started to follow them out, when she was promptly stop by Robards.

"Us doesn't mean you. This has nothing to do with you Weasley." He scowled.

"Excuse me?" she asked, feeling a bit disconcerted by being called by her actual last name.

"Are you a fucking Auror? Get back to your pets and leave the handy work to some proper wizards."

As she was about to retort Robards loudly slammed her own door on her face.

Well, that was rude. That was extremely rude.

Hermione stared angrily at the door, debating on whether to hex him out or demand she'd be present in their meeting, but he was right to some extent. It didn't concern her, at least, not directly.

And so she stumbled back to her desk and once again, waited.

* * *

 **Thank-you for reading! I'll try to keep updating at least once a week :)**

 **Wherever you are, have an amazing day!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello! Long time, huh? Summer man... Complicated time. But I'm back with an update! Yay! Hopefully I can start posting more regularly.**

 **Anyway, hope you had a lovely summer or are having. Thanks for sticking with this.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Year 1997, November**

 **Middle Courtyard**

It was unusually hot today. The sun was up, the clouds were gone and it looked nowhere near the first week of November, like it should be. It was almost as if the earth was mocking them, not caring about the impending doom that seemed to lurk anywhere in this castle, nowadays. Anywhere you went there was this cold, icy feeling that would chill you to the bone. The flowers were dying, the leaves were drying. The sky was always grey and the rain habitually made an appearance later in the days. Yes, winter was fast approaching and unlike other years at Hogwarts, students were dreading it. The weather only seemed to wear them down even more, as if the Carrows and the news of Voldemort's rising power weren't reason enough.

So, when a day like this made an appearance, Hermione couldn't help but feel a little spark of hope. When there was a day where the birds seemed to sing and the flowers refused to wither, it made her feel like the world was giving them a message. A message to not give up. The dark would not stay forever, as the sun would always find a way to shine.

"Glad to see you think that way. I have a hard time with it myself, considering I have detention later on with one of the Carrows."

Hermione scowled Seamus for his apparent negativity and for ruining the little spark of hope that rarely found her body. She didn't say anything and continued to read her book, under the tree they were currently sitting around.

Since it was such a good day, Luna had suggested that maybe they could use some kind of break from all the training and have a nice lay back on the grass. Hermione was reluctant at first, knowing pretty well that the harder they prepared, the better they would be protected against anything that may come their way. They were really going at it hard, every ounce of their spare time seemed to go to their training and research. And it was getting more difficult for all of them to gather, since the Carrows and Snape were on high alert about any 'illegal' activities that could tarnish their strict and abusive control over the school. Add the fact that more Slytherins were likely joining Voldemort's ranks and training with D.A. was pretty much a death-wish.

Still, they would not give up, even if it cost them their lives. And as Ginny had pointed out, if they were sacrificing so much of themselves, it would be only fair that they could enjoy the sun a couple of more times, before perishing one way or the other.

Hermione agreed then, but only if they would take out some books and continued their research. Enjoy themselves yes, but always on the lookout and never forgetting about their responsibilities.

"I don't think there is anything wrong with having a little hope, Seamus." Ginny chirped in, her book forgotten as she lay her head in Luna's lap. "Hope is what keeps us going."

"Tell that to my bruised face." He replied, pointing at a big bruise on his cheek.

"I didn't know your bruises could speak." Luna said calmly, interestingly looking at Seamus' face as she made a seemingly very complicated type of braid on Ginny's hair.

Hermione chuckled slightly, Neville grinning wildly at her side as they both started at Seamus, who was currently narrowing his eyes at Lovegood.

Oh, it felt so good to do this! To just sit here, with her friends, under this tree, the sun warm in the sky. Even though Seamus' bruises were not a good laughing matter, Hermione felt that little spark light itself up again.

She missed this.

She missed the time were they would just hang around and talk about a variety of subjects that did not include dark Curses or immediate death danger. She missed these moments, where she would look at the future and not see black. And even though she knew this would end soon, as they would have to eventually go back to their dreadful routine of trying to survive one more day, she couldn't help but smile at this picture. The five of them, here, together. All that was missing was Harry and Ron.

Her smile quickly vanished as her two boys popped into her head. She was hearing less and less from them, their letters becoming almost non-existent. She told herself that maybe it was a good sign, that maybe it meant they were on the right track and they were getting closer and closer to finding all the Horcruxes. But that part of her, where the spark would be drowned in cold water, feared something worse. That maybe they were lost somewhere, stranded. Or that they were hurt or caught. They were out there risking their lives and she was here, smiling? Unacceptable.

Neville noticed the change on her demeanour and warmly put a hand to her shoulder, smiling weakly at her.

"No news?"

Hermione looked back at him as she bit her lip, apprehension now taking control of her features.

"No. The last I heard they were somewhere up north."

"I'm sure they are fine." Neville told her reassuringly.

Hermione gave him a small smile, barely nodding her head. Yes. They were fine. They had to be, or else all this sacrifice would have been for nothing.

"Cheer up, Hermione. Harry's a smart bloke and Ron, well, Ron is…" Seamus was struggling to find the words.

"Ron's a pig head, but he's got Harry's back." Ginny said, as she rose up with her new ginger braid.

A roll of soft laughter descended upon them, as Ginny's description of her own brother seemed to be somehow accurate.

Yes, they were fine. Hermione had to believe that. She knew her boys were special. Harry would always come through with it and Ron would be there to help him, one hundred percent of the way. They made a good team. Very few could knock them down, if there were such a few. Yes, they were fine.

"Are you going to patrol tonight, Hermione?" Luna asked suddenly with that vague expression she was so well-known for.

"Yes. One of the sacred duties of being Head Girl." Hermione answered resentfully. Not that she wasn't glad she was Head Girl. This made it easier for her to keep a look around and to manage to protect more students. But after so many incidents lately, she was beginning to dread these patrol hours.

"You should at least have another Prefect with you 'Mione. It is not safe for you to wander the halls at night alone." Ginny suggested.

"No. No Prefects. I can handle myself. The more students I know are safe, the better I feel. It's best if I by my self. I need you guys to protect the other students."

"I'm not saying to have a whole group of them, just have one and –"

"I said no, Ginny." Hermione said more strictly "I won't risk another student's life like that. Not when there are more Slytherins who seem to be joining Voldemort."

They all went quiet after that, the harsh reality of the situation coming back up again. The sun was still shinning, the temperature was still warm, but there was a freezing breeze surrounding them.

Hermione had told them what happened with Blaise Zabini, warning them to be more cautious around him and other Slytherins. If Voldemort was recruiting students, then Merlin knows how many more students-turned-Death-Eaters were there. They had to take every precaution. They needed to stay away from the Slytherins. All of them. Even those annoying first years.

Of course, she still upheld some information about that horrible encounter, as to how she managed to escape and who helped her. She still did not believe it herself. And to make them worry about Malfoy, was pointless. It would only weigh on them more. Malfoy she could handle. She could. And if she repeated it a thousand times in her head, she just might start to believe it.

"We need to know who they are. We can't just go around and go to classes with potential murderers!" Seamus stated, clearly getting agitated.

"They won't do anything. At least not yet."

"How could you be certain of that? Zabini tried to fucking kill you!"

"And he won't try it again. And if he does, I'll be prepared." Hermione replied sternly.

"You don't know that, Hermione." Neville seemed to agree with Seamus "For all you know, he could be plotting your death right now."

"As he can be plotting yours! He won't do it, Neville. Voldemort is too sadistic for that. He wants to kill me himself."

"At least someone is thinking about me, then."

They all turned to Luna questioningly, forgetting for a second with whom they were dealing with.

"Oh, you know. Almost no one thinks about me, apart from my Dad, so it is a nice thing to feel."

"You feel nice about someone thinking about murdering you?" Seamus asked confused. He then scoffed "No wonder you are mental."

"Seamus!" Ginny warned, as Neville punched him quickly in the arm, earning a groan from the Half-Blood wizard.

"Hey! I have bruises there as well."

"Tough." Was Neville's reply.

They were so wrapped up in their lecture of Seamus's tactless behaviour that they didn't notice a group of people approaching them.

Hermione was the first to lift her eyes when she heard a high pitched giggle.

Making its way over to them was the main reason they were having this pointless discussion anyway. Advancing as if they owned the whole castle, the four most obnoxious and vile Slytherins she knew, were marching towards their tree. She could count Pansy Parkinson, the source of the squeal like giggle, Theodore Nott, the hateful Blaise Zabini and –

"Malfoy."

The group also turned and lifted their eyes to see the source of Hermione's whispered statement. Evidently there they were, coming towards them.

Seamus quickly stepped up to his feet, so as Neville and Ginny. Hermione seemed too distracted about the loathsome picture they all seemed to make, especially with the blonde haired Slytherin. He was laughing at something Nott had said, along with Parkinson. How could he do that? One night there he was, crying, saving her, making her forget who she was dealing with and now here he was, snickering about as if nothing happened.

She noticed he seemed even paler in the direct sunlight, his hair almost white. And as he strolled happily beside his friends, she wondered if he was in fact toying with her, with all that crap about crying and saving her life. In fact, there he was, side by side with Zabini, as if none of what had happened last week had taken place.

He had Crucio'd Zabini. Twice. And now there they were, best mates as ever. It baffled her. It revolted her.

They came to stand directly in front of them, smirks and evil grins on their faces.

Hermione noticed how Parkinson pushed herself to be between Draco and Blaise, balancing herself on both their arms, still giggling. Hermione wasn't one to let herself be affected by these kinds of self-deprecation displays, but Pansy took it to a whole new level when it came to being a disgrace to the female gender. She couldn't help but feel ashamed for her fellow female for making women look like some bantering, dumb, slutty humans. She knew Pansy was not the only girl in the world and that you shouldn't make generalizations, but she definitely gave a whole new meaning to the word discredit.

That girl was foul.

And she wasn't even that pretty, with her pointy nose and cruel snare. Her hair was a tiny black, bob that framed her long, narrow face. The only thing she really got going for her were her boobs and she always went out of her way to show it, by using some unnecessary cleavage, untying her tie and unbuttoning her shirt. And that was exactly the look she was sporting right now, the warm weather being the perfect excuse.

"Why so serious, Granger? I thought Mudbloods liked the sun, the wild being your natural habitat and all." Parkinson lamely snickered, trying to provoke her.

Blaise and Theo laughed mockingly. Malfoy just kept smirking.

"Watch your mouth Parkinson! You are addressing the Head Girl." Seamus said, as Hermione got to her feet as well.

"Oh please, as if! Her being Head Girl is the fucking joke of the century. If only that decrepit, senile, old woman would kick it fast, so that this whole charade could finally come to an end."

"One more word Parkinson and I fucking swear that you are the one to be kicking it soon!" Seamus warned, his hands twitching by his sides, eager to pull out his wand and hex her.

"Don't overstep your bonds Finnigan. That is no way to talk to a girl." Theo joined, smirking wickedly.

"Didn't notice I was talking to a girl. It is easy to overlook that, when all I can see is fucking scum."

"Are you honestly considering us scum?" Blaise asked, coming to stand face to face with Seamus.

Hermione was not liking this. She was not liking this at all.

"Have you looked at your reflection, lately? I don't know how you haven't gone bloody blind by now."

"Back off, Zabini." Neville warned, coming to stand behind Seamus, his wand already drawn.

"Or what, Longbottom? You'll hurt me? I would fucking love to see you try." Blaised simpered, a dark aura starting to radiate from him.

"Ok, that is enough."

Hermione stepped in next to Seamus, wand ready, Head Girl badge shining brightly. Ginny was right behind her and Luna was still seated against the tree, watching the exchange.

The Slytherins returned their attention to Hermione, as she once again, faced off Blaise Zabini. She could see Malfoy looking at her from the corner of her eye, his expression unreadable. What would he do now, if Zabini suddenly attacked her again? Would he do the same thing? Would he save her again? And since when did she needed saving from Malfoy? She was Hermione Granger, Head Girl. She didn't need rescue. And she certainly didn't need it from him.

"Granger, we meet again." Blaise grinned cruelly "Tell me, how's your neck?"

Hermione took a deep breath, not letting her emotions get the best of her. She needed to stay calm and collected. She couldn't let it transpire that he frightened her, that she still had nightmares about his hands around her throat. She couldn't let it show. Not when all her friends were counting on her; when all the students were counting on the Head Girl.

She suddenly remembered that her friends did not know the full, detailed events of that night. She glimpsed rapidly at Malfoy who was sending her some weird, silent looks. Was he trying to say something? Maybe to just shut up and not take the bait?

"You should leave, Blaise. I won't be responsible for what will happen to you, if you don't."

He scoffed, his grin only seeming to get wider "I think we've established that I don't take orders from you Mudblood and that I certainly am not scared of you."

"We are not scared of you either, Zabini. You try something against Hermione and you will have to deal with all of us." Ginny said, warning him as well.

"Oh please, not fucking likely. You are so stupid! You really take after your fucking dumb brother." Parkinson giggled almost hysterically, her hands on her hips.

"I wasn't talking to you, bitch." Ginny replied hotly, her gaze still direct towards Blaise.

"What did you call me, you fucking slut?" Parkinson was suddenly dead serious, walking straight towards Ginny, her hand ready for the kill.

Hermione quickly drew out her wand, only to be stopped by Seamus' arm, but apparently Pansy had also been stopped and not by either of them.

Her arm was stuck, mid-air, as her entire body had stiffen. Her eyes had widen and looked twice their size and her mouth hung open. She was frozen in her spot, maintaining her threatening pose, but not being able to finish the job.

"What the…" Theo inquired, eyebrows burrowed in confusion, as Pansy stood paralysed, not even uttering a breath.

Everyone seemed confused as to what had happened until they noticed another person approaching the scene. His dark robes contrasted severely with the green grass, swishing with the light breeze. His hair was just as dark, and looked even greasier in the sunlight, as it came up to his shoulders. His eyes were piercing, his lips in a very thin line. He looked menacing, his wand in his right hand.

"Oh, look! It's Headmaster Snape." Luna acknowledged, a small smile encountering her lips.

Hermione was perplexed, again. Had Severus Snape just paralysed Pansy, preventing her from striking Ginny? The more she tried to understand these things, the more confused she would get.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Snape had finally arrived at the scene, his tone intimidating.

"Professor we…" Blaise tried to explain "We were just trying to –"

"It is Headmaster now, Mister Zabini. You would do well to remember that."

Blaise lowered his head. If in shame or fear, Hermione didn't know. She kept looking at Snape, her wand still drawn and Seamus' arm still preventing her movements. Snape looked right back at her, his eyes full of what seemed like hatred. He quickly scanned the scene and notice her wand in her hand.

"Miss Granger, drawing a wand on another student, except when in duel, is strictly forbidden. The Head Girl should know that."

Yeah right.

"She wasn't doing anything. They were the one's threatening us!" Seamus intervened, lowering his arm and pointing at the Slytherin lot.

"Us? You were going to hit Pansy!" Theo accused back.

"Why you little –" Seamus almost lost his temper, if it weren't for Neville securing him in place.

"ENOUGH!"

Snape's screamed seemed to echo throughout the courtyard, other students now looking over at the spectacle. Seamus stopped fidgeting and they all stood very quiet, awaiting for the Headmaster to speak again. Pansy was still stiff as a rock, the only thing she was able to move being her eyes, which were still wide and frantic, like she was in pain.

Hermione took a peak at Malfoy, who was also quiet and had backed away further from the scene. He was looking straight at her, their eyes meeting for a brief second. She noticed that he still hadn't said one word or even done anything remotely despicable, apart from laughing here and there. She wondered why that was.

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor. Each."

Hermione gasped, outraged "Excuse me? What about them? They started all of this."

"What I do with students of my own house is of no concern to you, Miss Granger. I will decide Miss Parkinson's proper punishment later." Snape explained, safely putting his wand back in his robes.

"It wasn't just Pansy. They are all to blame." Ginny said, looking viciously at Blaise.

"And one more bickering accusation from you lot and we'll make it twenty. Understood?"

They remained quiet, Hermione feeling quite angry. Maybe what Blaise had said was the simple truth: they couldn't be touched, they couldn't be condemned. The Slytherins were exempt of the law, all because of Snape, the Carrows, Voldemort. It was so unfair. They were the ones who should get points taken away from them, they were the ones who deserved a painful detention with one of the Carrows. Not them. Not her, Ginny, Neville or Seamus. Not when they were just trying to do the right thing. Not when they were just trying to enjoy a little bit of sun, a little bit of hope. It wasn't fair. None of it was.

Merlin, when would this end?

"Miss Granger, please put your wand away. If I see you acting this inexcusably again, I will see fit that your title of Head Girl gets stripped away. Are we clear?" Snape warned, looking at her fiercely.

Hermione could do nothing but comply, putting her wand back in her robes. She couldn't lose her title, for her own personal integrity but also for those around her and the students that needed her. Losing Head Girl could mean so much, so many bad things. No. She wouldn't let that happen.

"Now, it seems that mister Finnigan has detention with Professor Amycus Carrow, is that correct?"

"Uhm, yes, but it isn't for another hour." Seamus replied.

"Well then, it is your lucky day. You get to go in earlier. You'll have more time to do your homework later on and we both know you need that."

Seamus felt his blood run dry and his throat constrict painfully. Hermione cursed inwardly, aghast on how Snape could be so horrible. She had once trusted this man. She never liked him, but she had trusted him. And had so dreadfully killed the best man she had ever known, the greatest wizard that had lived, so he could take his place in this horrific castle and reign based on terror and fear, to feed the horrendous visions of a sadistic son of a bitch. If looks could kill, Snape would be dead by now.

"Run along now, mister Finnigan. Professor Carrow is expecting you."

Seamus half-heartedly started to make his way towards the castle, his face red with anger. He didn't even bid them goodbye as he walked back inside. Hermione knew he would later sport some fresh bruises and her heart cried out in pain. How was it that things got so messed up?

"The rest of you lot, scram. And take miss Parkinson with you, the effects will begin to wear off soon enough. I need to speak to the Head Girl, alone."

What could he possibly want with her? Hermione narrowed her eyes in confusion. The rest of them silently obliged. Ginny squeezed her shoulder reassuringly as she left alongside Luna and Neville gave her an encouraging nod. She knew they didn't want to create any more trouble for her side, so they left without a word.

Blaise and Theo also left without saying anything, both of them grabbing Pansy by her petrified arms, her eyes still full of panic and hate. Hermione had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time her and Pansy would have this kind of encounter, or with any other Slytherins for that matter. They were out to get her. Her and everyone she affiliated herself with. Every Muggleborn, every Half-Blood. They wouldn't stop until every one of them were caught, dead and buried. She now knew this.

Malfoy was the last to leave, still looking at her, his expression full of animosity. Still, he didn't do anything. He could have easily joined Blaise and Pansy, but he didn't. He just stood there, watching everything unfold. And now he was just leaving, following his colleagues back into the castle. Would he ever stop being this freakishly hard puzzle to solve? Merlin…

A loud cough from Snape woke her up from her thoughts, not realizing she had been staring at Malfoy's retreating form.

She looks up at her former Potion's Professor, her new Headmaster. She looks at him defiantly, her Gryffindor courage not one to back down, ever. He wasn't going to hurt her, he wouldn't. Snape may be everything and anything, but Hermione would never believe he would hurt a student on purpose, just to get him off. He can give her detention, make her do something humiliating, but he would never really hurt her…

At least, that is what she kept repeating in her head, all the time he looked back down at her and she waited for him to do something, say something.

Until finally, he did.

"I've been noticing that you and your little friends have been around, doing something. What that something is, well, that is what I expect to find out. Whatever it is, it stops now or else –"

"Or else what? You'll punish us? Expel us?" she countered, her anger not once dissipating "Don't worry, the Carrows have already covered the earlier and the latter is just ridiculous. Where else can Voldemort get his goodies? He has a full supply of filth to kill, why mess with that?"

"I would strongly suggest you would keep such opinions to yourself, Granger. And learn some respect for you superiors, while you are at it."

"You will never be my superior. Nor you, nor Voldemort. I'll personally make sure you'll both burn into the ground."

Snaped eyed her "Are you threatening your Headmaster?"

"You'll never be Headmaster. You may have the title, but you will never be it. Dumbledore is the only true Headmaster and will ever be. It must pain you to know, that even in death, he is so much better than you." She said heatedly, her hands turning into fists, her anger bubbling on the surface.

She was mad. She was so, so mad. This man repulsed her so much.

For years they had been tormented by Snape. For years she watched as he, time and time again, tried so hard to get his DADA teacher position. For years and years, she had loathed him, loathed his teaching methods, his appearance, his injustices. But for years she had also respected him, even with all his faults, she had respected him, because Dumbledore did. Dumbledore trusted him and she had trusted him as well. And now? Now Dumbledore was dead and her respect for Snape was gone. It was fucking gone. So damn her respect and damn him! She would never bow down to him, never.

"How can you? How can you even walk around with pride? How can you live with yourself after what you have done? After killing a man who trusted you with all his heart? After seeing your students being beaten up and cursed into a bloody pulp? How can you even look up to a man who kills Muggles just for sport? Just for fun? How can you sleep at night? How can you?"

"That is enough, Miss Granger!" Snape snapped, forcedly grabbing her upper arm.

Hermione fell quiet, her rage still evident from the way she was breathing, as she looked at him, daring.

She would always dare, she would never falter. She promised herself that, after all those dangerous encounters. She must be brave. For her, for Ginny, Neville, everyone. She had enough of fear.

"Now, you will go back to your common room and you will stay there until it is time to do your rounds, understand? And you will keep that mouth shut or I will turn YOU into a goody bag for the Dark Lord. Are we clear?" he growled.

She didn't reply as she stared back at him, almost too furious and repelled to even form words. To hear him talk like that made it clear that he was truly this abominable, hateful persona. He had them all fooled. Fucking bastard.

They stood like that for a few seconds, until Snape finally released her rapidly bruising arm. He swept some invisible dust from his robes, as if touching her made him dirty.

Hermione rolled her eyes at that.

"And make sure to stay away from the students of my house. Episodes like this one are not to happen again."

"Don't worry. I wouldn't want to mess with your precious recruits. Voldemort needs all the Death Eaters he can get."

An unreadable expression seemed to pass by Snape's features, but he quickly disregarded it.

"It is after all a great honour to join the Dark Lord's cause, Granger. Keep out of our way, I'm warning you. Now do as I say and go back to your common room."

Snape turned around to leave, but Hermione wasn't about to let this one go. She needed some answers and this seemed like a good time as any.

"If it is such a great honour, why cry about it?"

The Headmaster stopped suddenly and turned around to face her again, unable to hide his confusion.

So he didn't knew about it, did he? It seemed Malfoy hadn't told anyone either. Why would he? He'd probably already forgotten about the whole ordeal. Or maybe he was just ashamed. It was like Snape had just said. These Slytherins were proud to be serving Voldemort. They looked at it as this great honour, this great prestige. Malfoy took the mark probably more than a year ago. He was no novice to how things worked in Voldemort's ranks. So if all of this was true, why would he go back to the place where he had meant to kill Dumbledore? And why would he cry about it?

"What?" Snape questioned, confusion still written all over his face.

"You said it yourself, how great of an honour it is to get the Dark Mark and serve that ridiculous lunatic. If that is the case, why would one of your precious kin break down crying about it?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Granger?"

"I always knew he was a coward, but to have a meltdown right in front of me must be a new low."

Hermione did not care how cruel that sounded, too crossed to even think about it. She wanted some answers and she wanted them now. Draco Malfoy was not acting like himself, if she ever could figure out what that himself would be, and she wanted to know why. Ever since he got back, his actions did not make any sense. And if anyone knew what was going on, that someone had to be Snape.

And she knew he had to know something, as soon as realization hit his face and his confusion turned into a serious death-glare. Oh yes, Snape was getting very angry now. It appeared that talking trash about his favourite student was the way to go.

"So, please enlighten me. If being a Death Eater is so good for you, how come Draco Malfoy was sobbing like a little boy the other night?"

"You stay away from Mister Malfoy, you hear me?"

The way he said it, slow and menacing, could give anyone the chills. And those eyes. They were piercing, deadly.

But Hermione did not back down, once again.

"He regrets it, doesn't he? He wishes he could take it all back, doesn't he? And he has nowhere to turn, no one to –"

Hermione gasped in surprise as her former Professor grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, a low growl making its way to his throat. Unfortunately, no one was around to witness him losing his composure like that, Hermione once again thrown in the snake pit all by herself.

Snape held her shoulders tightly, shaking her with the force of his grasp. A hiss of pain left her lips as one of Snape's hands came to grip her chin, forcing her to look up at him, straight into his eyes. He was fuming, his yellow teeth showing and his greasy hair right in her face due to his proximity.

"Now you listen to me Granger and you listen well. Whatever it is you claim to have witnessed, you will keep your mouth shut about it and you will stay the fuck away from Draco Malfoy. If it ever comes to my knowledge that you have been less than twenty feet from him or that you have been spreading these preposterous rumours about him, I will personally end Mister Zabini's work and rip your fucking throat out. Are we fucking clear?"

Alright, now Hermione was afraid. How did he know about Blaise? Had Malfoy told him? And if so, had he told him he saved her? No, he couldn't have. Snape must have learn that from Zabini himself. If Malfoy had a close relation to Snape he surely told him about that night in the Astronomy Tower. Or maybe, not. It wasn't something to be particularly proud of, to break down in front of one your nemeses. And if Draco Malfoy truly was sorry for everything he had done, he obviously shouldn't be talking to Snape about it. He would already be dead, by now, Voldemort not too keen about those who abandon the cause.

But the way Snape was looking at her, the way he had said all of this, the way he had threatened her just now, made her believe that he was hiding something about Malfoy. Or that Malfoy was hiding something as well. They were both hiding something, she was sure of it. And she needed to find out what.

This could be bad. This could be dangerous. First students turning Death Eaters and now some guarded secret between Snape and Malfoy. Not even the sun could lit up any spark of hope now.

His grip tighten and she gave him a simple nod, while wincing. He let her go then, still looking at her menacingly, defying her to say more but she kept her mouth shut, his threat still ringing in her ears. She had to play along for now, if she wanted to find out more about this.

Snape finally turned around, leaving her there, in that damn courtyard, where she had only wanted to find some kind of normality and peace. But those were things that didn't belong to Hogwarts anymore.

And as she headed for her Common Room and grimaced at the thought of Seamus walking in later on with new, horrible bruises on his face, she just wished that it could all be over soon. She wished for Harry and Ron's safety and their rapid return and she wished she could be strong enough to protect everyone. She also wished she would learn how take intimidations more seriously, but her years of experience battling for a better Wizarding World had completely made her lose that ability.

She wouldn't stay away from Malfoy. If he was planning something, if he knew something or if he was hiding something, she had to know what it was. No matter the consequences.

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 **Thanks for reading! Any comments, critiques or simple chatting are welcome!**

 **Hope you are having a fantastic day/night, wherever you are!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello again! It's me with an update! Woohoo!  
**

 **I have been so frustrated lately... I've recently started a new job (which is great, I know) but my time to write has diminished significantly :( and it pains me. This story is like my baby and I want to see it grow. I have it all planned out and I constantly recite and recreate the scenes in my head, but to actually have the time to sit down and write (I'm a very slow writer)... Arrggggg .**

 **Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Year 2003, June  
The Ministry of Magic**

Hermione didn't mind the rain. She liked the rain. Rain was a need, it quenched the earth's thirst. Rain was a necessity. It kept the trees green, the animals hydrated and it was Mother Nature's cry of joy; rain made water and water made rain. Water was the source of life, the main reason for everything that existed. Water created her, Hermione Granger. Water created all of this and the earth would never stop needing it; it hummed for the rain. It called for it, plead for it and, in England, it plead for it twice as hard, as if the country was always thirsty and if it went too long without the rain, it would dry up and wither and die.

England was addicted to rain as if it knew that water was the Queen of all things and the country wanted to pay Her its homage. So it kept asking for rain, bathing in it, succumbing to it.

At least, that is how Hermione saw it. That is what she told herself every time her clothes would get wet from an unfortunate wet stroll or a ruined outdoor sunny experience.

I don't mind it. No, I truly don't. I like rain. Rain good.

Even so, today, there was no rain. Today the sun had decided to make an appearance, something that had been lacking these past few weeks. It may be June, but when it came to rain and water, England doesn't really care for Summer. The country must maintain its tradition and continue its never ending shower throughout all the seasons. Hermione wondered if the King Sun simply got tired of arguing with the Queen. She thought about how it must have been earlier in the days, around a million years or so, when the present continents still haven't shifted and England wasn't stuck on this island in the middle of the ocean. Did the Queen pester the King like she did now? And if she did, did he fought back?

She shook her head, her bungling thoughts too much to bear. This was no time to be thinking about rain or Summer or anything at all. This was the time to stay focused, concentrated and on high alert. This was the time to be fierce.

Her brain needed some peace and quiet before heading back to the real world. No more Queens and Kings. Now it was just Hermione, her ham sandwich and a bench outside the Ministry's four walls, inside its small courtyard. Now it was just Hermione enjoying the sun and appeasing her stomach, treating it with some much needed nutrients, before going back inside and try not to lose herself to the panic that was her messy life.

Even though it was quite warm, a shiver still went up her spine.

What they feared was quite possible true. Former and aspirant Death Eaters were indeed gathering. For what? Hermione could only wonder.

This was not good. It was happening right under their noses, even though they were all being extremely careful. But still, it was happening, it was real. Death Eaters were back. They were back. Did that meant Voldemort was back?

Again, another shiver.

No. It couldn't. Voldemort was dead. Harry killed him. They saw it. Everyone saw it. He fell to his death. He was dead. Dead, buried. Dead, dead, dead. He had to be dead.

Not much was known. After she had been rudely addressed by Robards and waited for what seemed like ages in her office, Harry had finally decided to appear. And apparently Malfoy had, once again, been the bearer of bad news.

"He thinks the Carrows might be involved."

Hermione looked up to her best-friend sitting across her. Harry was looking pensively at the ground in her office, scratching the side of the chair.

"The Carrows?"

He sighed.

"Yes."

"But… You and McGonagall… and, and Flitwick! You had them!"

"Don't you think I know that, Hermione? The Battle was a mess… most of them we caught, but others we mainly assumed were dead." He scoffed "Pretty dumb, huh?"

Hermione didn't answer, trying to remember any detail at all that might lead her to contradict the information.

They had the Carrows. They had them.

Dammit, it was begging to blur. The most important day of their lives and it was blurring out. Shit.

"He talked about some others, but nothing too concrete."

"How does he know about this? How come he knows and we don't? It doesn't make sense!" She argued.

"He thinks Zabini's responsible."

Great. That's all they needed. Death Eater gatherings and another bloody psycho as their leader.

"He's pretty sure that they have been recruiting and that they are planning something."

"So, he's been in touch with Zabini?" Hermione couldn't help the slight pang that came into her heart. Malfoy and Zabini had this history, a history she knew well about, especially the ending part. That part Harry was fairly oblivious to it. He knew Malfoy and Zabini had been close and he knew that after the battle those two could never be friends again. Well, Malfoy did try to redeem himself and Zabini… wel,l he hid and no one had heard from him since. Until now that is.

Apparently Malfoy knew pretty well where the dark skin wizard had been all along. And that hurt a little. He kept in touch with someone that had brought so much pain and suffering… And he hadn't had the decency to even tell her he was back?

Fuck, Hermione. Forget it. New life, remember? New life.

"No. But he did spy on him a couple of times."

"So is that what he's been doing for the past five years? Spying?"

"And travelling. And shagging. And other things not worth mentioning right now."

Another pang in her heart. This one was bigger. Ouch.

"Look, point is, Malfoy didn't really get into details, since he doesn't have a lot to go on."

"Doesn't seem like it. You seem to know a lot about his sexual activity." She bit, not being able to control herself.

"That was just Malfoy being Malfoy, Hermione. I could care less about what he is doing with his personal life." Harry didn't notice her anger, which was good

"And five years of spying and doesn't have a lot to go on? Doesn't look like he's good at it."

"He has some things. Writings, pictures, maps."

"Malfoy a detective? What has this world come to?"

"I know, right?" Harry snickered, before continuing "But he is willing to find out more. He wants to bring them down. He wants us to help him."

"So what, he's like a vigilante now? And we are just going with it?" She asked annoyed.

Harry pulled a face.

"Ok, now I am confused. You've always defended Malfoy and now when he genuinely tries to do something good, you get angry?"

"It's just… what do we really know about this, Harry?" She exasperated "You said it yourself, he doesn't have much to go on besides some reports and speculations. You hate speculations, Harry! I hate speculations."

"He showed me, Hermione. He has proof. And even if he didn't… why else would Malfoy approach the Ministry after five years of unknown whereabouts? Why else would he do this? Why would he show up again, here of all places to talk to us, of all people?"

She gulped silently.

Yep. The bloody question again. The fucking why.

 _Because he wanted to see me?_

Fuck Hermione. You are fucking pathetic. Get a grip.

"Kingsley is on board. He wants to work with Malfoy."

Great. This was just great.

"Work? As in, Malfoy is part of the Ministry now?"

"Not so much as a part of, but he will be collaborating with us for the time being."

Oh, fucking brilliant. Just sunshine and peaches. Just bloody, fucking brilliant.

Harry must have noticed the look on her face, because he got up and went to grab her shoulders. Hermione wondered if he was seeing right through her. How her stomach had just turned on itself, how her heart was going so fast it would definitely herniate. How her breathing was almost none existent. Yep, Hermione was panicking.

"Look, I know this might be a bit overwhelming. We thought it was finally all over and now it seems like we have to face it all over again. We knew there was a possibility of that happening. We knew that, Hermione." He explained softly "And now Malfoy is back and I know how much of an influence he had on you…"

Her eyes doubled their size. Her heart came to a screeching halt.

What?

"Hey, we all know how much he tormented you and how much you really wanted to believe he still had some kind of salvation. We also know that something happened to him during the final year at Hogwarts and that he finally came around." He said, trying to slightly comb her difficult hair "So maybe you were right. Maybe he was saved. And now he wants to prove it. I'm not saying I trust the guy, Hermione. I don't. I hate his fucking guts. But… I just want a little hope. If life has taught me anything, it taught me to have some hope. I need hope. You need hope. We need hope. We need all the hope we can get if we want to fight this, all over again. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Hermione kept looking back at him. If she understood? Oh, Harry. Malfoy has been giving her hope for so long, she knew exactly what he meant. Malfoy had given her hope ever since that first night on the Astronomy Tower. And at first she had been shocked. Shocked and revolted. Malfoy wasn't a place of hope. He wasn't. And how he had turned from a guy who tormented her to her greatest saviour, during that final year, was something they would never understand.

But yes, Harry. I know what you mean.

"Yes, Harry. I do." She replied simply.

He gave her a small smile and pulled her into a tight hug. Hermione hugged back just as tightly, bringing her arms to his shoulders and squeezing his neck.

"And I talked to Robards. You are to be included in this. We need your help. We can't do this without you."

She just squeezed him tighter at that. A little too tight it seemed, for Harry started to struggle for oxygen. Hermione released him with a small "sorry" and asked:

"So, when do we start?"

Apparently they start when Malfoy decides to start. At least that was the reason given for nothing happening during the next two days. After his visit, Malfoy went AWOL again, adverting Kingsley that it wasn't that safe for him to be so exposed, the reason behind that being undisclosed. So for two days they were left wandering again, implementing some research of their own. Hermione jumped right at it of course, making use of some of her contacts in her department, namely some elves and vampires she knew to have been in some way related to some Pureblood families. So far, nothing out of the ordinary.

After spending most of her morning and lunch hour cooped up in her office, today Hermione went outside for a break, bringing her sandwich, not really having the time to cook up something healthier. She and Ron were still a bit tense after what happened at the interrogation, even though she had apologized. She mainly apologized out of guilt, not one to back down so easily from her beliefs.

Ron had been childish but Malfoy had also been in the wrong. And Ron was her husband, her companion. He was the one who needed her understanding more than most, so she apologized. And he actually surprised her when he admitted he should have handled things differently. But he was still a bit hurt. And angry, although the anger was not directed at her. No, angry didn't actually cut it. Ron was pissed off. He was extremely pissed off. Working with Malfoy? He'd rather kill himself, or at least that is what he said.

She also knew Ron was the one stressing out the most. He of all people knew what it was like to lose someone to the war; to see someone he loved so dearly just vanish beneath his fingertips. They all did of course. They all lost someone. But Ron had lost a brother to a Death Eater and he took that very personally. So to be faced with that danger again was messing with his head.

Hermione wasn't a fool. They all got a little messed up after the war. It was Shrink 101. Ron had some very hard times. Her, Harry, Ginny… they all have some kind of post-war-something-syndrome. Everyone she knew had something horrible to say or feel. Everyone had nightmares from time to time, everyone had trouble sleeping sometimes. So to be back at it again, to the place and time they so desperately wanted to forget… it wasn't easy. No. It was grueling.

Taking another bite of her sandwich, she tried to enjoy the sun nuzzling her face and feet. Hermione always liked being barefoot, especially on a sunny day like this one. She struggled with cold feet, so to have this warmth tickling her toes made her feel content. Sun meant heat and warmth and… hope.

"I have to say, Granger, I'm not surprised."

And hope just decided to smack her in the face.

Hermione looked up to the ever annoying smirk of Draco Lucius Malfoy. He was clad in a simple green sweatshirt and black trousers. Of course green, go figure. It was almost as if he was doing it on purpose just to prove a point: he might be there surrounded by other 'houses' but he would always be proud of being a Slytherin.

Ok, so this was it. They were going to talk.

Hermione took a moment to reflect on that.

They were going to talk. They were going to talk. They were going to talk.

Shit.

Merlin, Hermione! Why the sudden nervousness? You are a fucking adult. You aren't a bloody teenager anymore. Why are you getting nervous? You are a married woman, an excellent professional, a hero of the War. Get it together. It is just Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. And he was here professionally. So she should be too.

"What doesn't surprise you, Malfoy?"

That's right. Keep it cool, play it casual. Act naturally.

"To see you out here. You were always a sucker for photosynthesis."

It was her turn to be surprised at the fact that he still remembered her little joke. Back in the day, when they were… whatever they were, Hermione would love to just lay outside in the sun when the opportunity would present itself. It was rare and almost none existent, but when the sun came out she made every effort to just sit or lay outside and enjoy it. Malfoy, on the other hand, hated having the sun directly in this face. He preferred the cold. So, when Hermione had to drag him all the way to a place where she could enjoy some rays of sunshine on her body, she would always joke around, claiming she was part tree. And trees need their photosynthesis.

"Nothing wrong with a little sun on your skin."

"No, nothing wrong with that." He trailed off. His posture was still and collected, with his hands in his pockets and he kept looking at her.

Hermione grew a little uncomfortable with his shameless staring. She tried to remain calm, but inside she was raging, wanting nothing more than to run for the hills. This was too awkward. She wouldn't deny she hadn't imagined this moment for years and years. Every now and then Malfoy would pop up in her head and she would wonder how their encounter would go. What they would say, what she would feel and what would he feel. Would they laugh about it all, like some old high school colleagues? Would they fight like they always seem to do? Would they stare silently at each other, trying to guess what each of them were thinking? Would he just act indifferent and cold? Or would he just pick her up and try to –

Ok. Enough. Not walking down that road. She cringed inwardly and tried to re-focus.

But Draco seemed to be struggling as well.

He said he wasn't surprised but he actually was. Well, he wasn't surprised Granger was out here enjoying a little bit of sun. He just wasn't expecting to see her up close so soon. Teasing her and working her buttons during an interrogation was one thing. They were put into that situation. He had been counting on it, it was planned. He had had time to prepare, to delineate his exact course of action: what to say, what to do, how to stare, how many times he would take a breath. He had taken his preparations.

But now… Seeing her there, feet dangling on the bench, with a mouthful of food, a slight smile on her features… it shook him. And Draco Malfoy isn't one to be shaken up easily. He momentarily forgot what he was going to say or what brought him out here in the first place. He used to hate her ability to do that, to just make him forget whatever was going through his brain at the time being. How her features would distract him and how her body would just take him some place else entirely. His eyes would just stay glued to her, unable to focus anywhere else or see what was surrounding him.

Hermione Granger was blinding like the sun.

"Malfoy? Are you listening?"

His eyesight returned at the sound of her question.

"Sorry, no. You were saying?"

"I asked you what you were doing here." She said, not managing another bite of her sandwich, since her stomach was currently doing flip-flops.

"Why, Granger. You should know, by now, I have some unfinished business with this shithole."

"I think you should refrain from calling it a shithole, Malfoy. Aren't you working with us now?"

"I'm doing you guys a favour. Doesn't mean I have to like you or refrain from saying the truth."

"A favour? This is hardly a favour, Malfoy, since you will be benefiting from this as well."

"Oh? Why is that, Granger?" he asked curiously.

"Maybe this way you'll avoid answering for your crimes, of doing some time or community work. Maybe this is your way of making a big comeback as the hero and re-enter into our society. You say we are a shithole, but this shithole may have your ass if it wants to and you know it." She replied a little harsher than she intended.

This was just one of the many theories Hermione had come up with for his mysterious return. After learning about Malfoy coming back, Hermione had panicked, of course. She had wrecked her brain with all the possible outcomes his return might bring, all the possible reasons behind it, all the possible scenarios and explanations. In short, she made a mental list of all things related to the arrival of Draco Malfoy.

And this was her testing it out. This was her making the first move just as she had made many times before. This was Hermione being fierce.

Oh Tyra, you would be so proud.

Malfoy wasn't sure how to respond. He had given her no reason to attack him like that. Well, there was the fact that he had gone for five years… and the note. But he wouldn't dive in to that just yet. He wanted to savour this, savour Hermione Granger trying to figure everything out. Or should he say… Hermione Weasley.

And with that, he made his move.

"I keep calling you Granger but really I should be calling you Weasel."

Yes, he ignored her.

And Hermione scowled at that. So he didn't fall for her trap. He just decided jump this mine and plant another one near her ship.

This was classical dialogue between Hermione and Draco. They danced around the subject until of them became too exhausted to talk about it anymore. They would launch attacks while trying to dodge incoming missiles. Everything about them revolved around this game of witty words and mind reading. She would plant a bomb and he would hurl a grenade. He tried to take her pawns and she would just attack his towers. They would just throw moves at each other until one of them destroyed the board and surrendered. It was typical. So typical, she should have anticipated it.

And she did.

Quickly putting on her shoes, she got up and faced him. She momentarily dwelled on how tall he was, but that was never intimidating to begin with. She faced him, head first, like she always did.

"Don't insult my family, Malfoy. Or my husband for that matter. That little spectacle you put up at the interrogation? Not convincing enough." She really emphasized the word husband, hoping he would catch the hint.

"Convincing of what? That Weasley is fucking retarded? I thought I didn't need to prove that since it is pretty out in the open."

"Would you not, please? If not for Ron, for me. You owe me that much."

"Again with the owning. Since when do I owe you or the Ministry anything for that matter?" He replied coldly "It's not like you have been giving me galleons or protection or anything at all. You had one job, one fucking job and you can't even do that properly. Merlin."

"It's not like you gave us a choice, Malfoy! You fought with us, you made your choice and then you left. You bloody vanished from the face of the earth. What were we supposed to do? Go after you and beg you to join us?" She scoffed "You are not worth that much, Malfoy."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Hermione realized it was not the right thing to say.

No, it was the wrong thing to say. The very wrong thing to say.

The way he was looking at her… He wasn't angry, he wasn't pissed off or stressing out. He was hurt. Genuinely hurt. She had dropped an atomic bomb, something she rarely did even when she was so unnerved by him she thought she might kill him. But she had dropped it and Malfoy couldn't even blink as it exploded.

Even though they were used to fighting, even though they both said some pretty nasty stuff to each other, as Hermione began to know Malfoy and be with him and got to know his secrets, she was actually shocked to learn that he could be quite… insecure. Not insecure about who he was or his actions. Not insecure about his abilities and looks. Malfoy was quite arrogant and cocky. But when it came to self-worth and being worth something to others, his confidence took its toll. And she knew that Lucius Malfoy was deeply responsible for that.

Malfoy was taught to be better than anybody else, but who needed someone like that in their lives? The Malfoy ways weren't about trust or friendship or love. The Malfoys existed solemnly for power and social position. They wanted to be worshipped and feared at the same time. They could care less about being worthy, about being needed, about meaning something to someone special. And Lucius tried to root that same mantra into Malfoy, starting with their own relationship. He had wanted his son to be great, to be the best. But never once he had shown Malfoy that he was needed, needed as his son, as his friend. He even once referred to Malfoy as… disposable.

Draco knew they were into verbally insulting each other, which was their thing, but this had escalated way too quickly. He wasn't sure what to say next. He saw the regret in her features and he wondered if she wasn't pondering on apologizing. But… apologize for what? For supposedly hurting his feelings? Bollocks, he was a Malfoy. He would just have to suck it up, like he always did. And even if she did apologize, what good would it do?

Merlin, this was too much. All the pent up frustration, all the years that had gone by, his life, her life… everything. So many things he wanted to say and do…

The Ministry, her idiot husband, her fucking Potty, those shitty Death Eaters. It was all bringing back the memories he so desperately wanted to forget… This place right here. It was reminding him of Hogwarts, of them, of her, of Voldemort, of his parents… Fuck. He couldn't deal with it all… not yet.

So, he snapped.

"Glad to know you all still fucking hate me. Still, I stand by what I said. I owe you nothing. I'm fucking risking my life everytime I step foot in this place. And I treasure my life. If you or your pinhead husband don't understand that, it's not my fucking problem. I didn't come here to help you nitwits from the kindness of my heart. I came here because I fucking need you to stop being so bloody incompetent and start doing your fucking jobs. Or we are all fucking dead… Weasley."

He had her pinned under his harsh stare. Hermione could see that the hurt had been substituted by clear, undeniable ire. The first talk they had had in years and they were right back to how it ended: with a bloody fight. It seemed like they couldn't escape it. Hermione and Draco would always be battling even though they took the same side of the trenches.

And had he finally succumbed to call her by her real surname now? And if so, how come she was so uncomfortable with it? She was so used to him calling her Granger, having him call her anything else felt so foreign and distant… And there were still so many questions and so many thoughts that were troubling her. She needed to know. She needed to know about the damn note, about his whereabouts, about the Death Eaters, about him, about her, about everything. Merlin, she needed to know.

"Look, Malfoy I –"

"Save it. I'm tired of feeling I fucking have to prove myself to you or anyone. I have nothing to prove to you, Granger. Nothing."

Back to Granger, now. At least that made her feel more normal, even if the current situation was not.

He continued:

"I proved myself to you, years ago. And if risking my life to fucking stand near you isn't proof enough – "

"I don't need to you to play the bloody martyr, Malfoy! I still don't understand why the fuck are you back and how –"

"– I guess you don't need me to prove anything more. I'm fucking trying to tell you why I'm here! You are the one that keeps attacking and –"

"– you came to all the information you gave Kingsley and Harry. I'm attacking!? You fucking insulted me not 3 minutes after you –"

"– keep carding me on my fucking debts. Oh come on, Granger. Calling Weasley a retard is hardly a fucking insult. If I wanted to insult you I would just –"

"– came to talk to me and you expect what? That I'd welcome you with open arms and a smile on my face after all that's happened and treat you like –"

"– make a reference to your fucking heritage, just like I used to do back in the day. Or call you a tight-up bitch and be –"

"– some kind of hero? So we are fucking back to blood now, really? If that is the case then –"

"– all sarcastic about imagining you shagging Weasley with a stick up your ass –"

"– WHY DID YOU SEND ME THAT FUCKING NOTE?"

And there it was. The elephant in the room just decided to take a stroll.

Her body was slightly quivering, her arms hanging by her sides. Her chest caved in and puffed out in erratic beats. Her eyes were glistening with profound curiosity and a little bit of anger, of fear, of… something. And her hands… the hand that was holding her sandwich had just destroyed it to pieces, just as she did when she had gotten the fucking note. Her hand was suffocating the sandwich, just as she wished she could be suffocating him right now. She wanted to hit him, to hex him, to just…

Merlin, Malfoy just fucking tell me. Tell me that it was a sick joke. Tell me that you didn't actually think I wasn't moving on with my life. Tell me that you didn't want me not to move on… Tell me that the note wasn't an omen… An omen to your return, to the return of war, to the return of everything. Hogwarts, them, Voldemort… all of it. Tell me, please. Tell me why you didn't want me to do it. Just tell me…

Draco seemed amazingly calm, even after her outburst and as she stood there, quacking and smothering what was left of her lunch. He suddenly remembered the first time he had kissed her… how she had trembled deliciously against him, how she had felt so soft and smelled so lovely. And it had started just like this, hadn't it? They had just been fighting and he felt that urge… the same urge he was feeling now. The urge that had never left him, that never will.

Yes, Granger. I sent you a fucking note… a pathetic note. Another one of my cowardly actions. I'm an idiot. A fucking idiot. You deserve so much better… and yet, I can't stop thinking about you. I never stopped thinking about you. Ever. But it is not my place to tell you any of that. And it never will be.

Malfoy let his head drop silently, sarcastically smiling at his own pitiful thoughts. He was a fucking pillock.

"It doesn't matter now, Granger. Forget the damn note. The note was a sorrowful period in my life. I regret sending it, every day. I just want this over with, so I can go back to not having to deal with the likes of you lot for a very long time. I've just come back and I'm already fucking sick of all of you." He said.

Hermione held her head up high as he, once again, danced around the subject and insulted her and her friends.

It hurt. It really hurt, but she was stronger than this. Stronger than a stupid dead sandwich in her hand. Stronger than he ever was. He was a coward and he will always be a coward.

Fine. She wouldn't bring it up again. Ever. And if he truly felt like that, than he was right. Let's just get over this, find those fucking wankers and go back to our separate lives.

Hermione decided to, as decently as she could, drop her dead sandwich in the nearest dustbin, close to the bench she had been previously seated on. She could feel Malfoy's eyes on her as she got rid of the bread crumbs and tiny pieces of ham sticking to her hand.

She felt like crying. She felt like hitting something. She felt so many things at once, she was scared to burst. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her like this. Not anymore.

Many times in the past that Malfoy had seen her succumb to her emotions: grief, joy, pleasure, anger. He had been there through everything, through that fucking war she constantly feared she wouldn't survive. He had been there. But this was different. They weren't… whatever it was they were before. Things had changed. She had changed. He had changed.

Forget the note. Ok, sure. She could do that. She just had to deal with him for the next couple of months, if everything went smoothly and then he could go back to Merlin knows where and she could actually focus on her new life with Ron. Yes. A New life as a Weasley. Maybe even children… Maybe. Yes. Who knew, right?

Proud of her wishful thinking, she grabbed her small lunch box from the bench and turned to him once more. Should she say something? He was still calmly and patiently waiting for her next move. Should she leave him with another sarcastic and hurtful response, or should she just ignore him and leave? She decided on the latter and went to go around him.

"Leaving already? Aren't we going to kiss and make up?" He asked ironically, turning to her direction.

"As much as you enjoy this, Malfoy, I have no time to deal with you right now, nor do I wish to." She answered, not stopping to look back at him as she walked away.

"You know, Granger, it is an act of solipsism to assume that others enjoy the things that you enjoy!" he called after her.

The glass doors that lead inside the Ministry shook, when Hermione abruptly opened them and closed them and Malfoy actually feared the glass would break.

It didn't.

* * *

 **I wasn't sure if I liked the direction I took with this chapter. Draco and Hermione weren't supposed to have a confrontation this early on (early on? it's been 13 chapters! duh!)... But as the action progressed it kind of felt right. I mean, it's Malfoy and Granger! They have this thing for fights and insults and sexual tension.**

 **In the next chapter they will finally have a chance to act it out a bit *ahem* *wink wink*  
**

 **Hope you liked it! And have a wonderful day/night wherever you are!**

 **And yes, we are halfway through this story. Can you guess the obvious hint I left for that purpose?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Happy Halloween! I realise it was yesterday, but I couldn't upload yesterday (for some reason). So, for you all, here's another chapter. Another gift for all of you, who have read, reviewed, followed, favourited and supported this story.**

 **Your reviews mean so much to me. Thank-you, from the bottom of my heart. I apologize for not updating as regularly as I would want to.**

 **On with the story! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Year 1997, December**

 **Prefect Meeting Room**

"Right, does anyone have any questions?"

You could almost hear the crickets outside, due to the amount of silence that followed her question.

She sighed before addressing the room one last time:

"Well since everyone's clear, I declare this session to be over, I guess…"

You couldn't hear the crickets anymore, as everyone that was gathered began to pack their things and make a literal dash for the door. She sighed again, collecting her own quills and parchments, stuffing them into her bag.

Hermione hated these meetings. She felt like no one was ever listening to her and you could hardly call these gatherings "meetings", due to them being pretty much like a one woman dialogue show. She stood before all the other prefects, did her best to understand if everything was running smoothly, stressed the importance of rounds, paperwork, protection, asked some questions that were met by silence and told them all to leave.

And that was on a good day.

If a few Slytherins were pissed off, they would make these meetings feel twice as long, as they kept interrupting her with silly questions or defying her authority, claiming that her blood status prevented them from obeying her. As for the other houses, they kept mostly to themselves; even the Gryffindors seemed rather distant and withdrawn. Hermione couldn't blame them, really. The weather was cold, the days were shorter, darker. No one had the capacity to think about school, paperwork, homework. Everyone was afraid of what was going on out there and inside of these halls. These meetings had no significance whatsoever. What was there to talk about? If they were doing their jobs properly? How could they, when everything was this messed up?

"That went smoothly, don't you think?"

She turned her head to face her companion in these meetings and also Hogwarts Head Boy, Anthony Goldstein. He was smiling sympathetically at her, also knowing how useless each and every one of these conventions were becoming.

Hermione game him a small smile in return "Yes, lovely. Well at least they didn't try to turn my hair into octopus tentacles this time around."

"See? We are improving!" He chuckled, slinging his own bag over his shoulder.

She chuckled alongside him, the light humour making her feel slightly better. He was a rather charming boy, intelligent and friendly. He made a good Head Boy, even though he was in the same boat as her when it came to the Carrows or the other Slytherins. She knew they were pissed that both Head Girl and Head Boy were not Purebloods. They had McGonagall to thank for that. Before Snape took over as Headmaster, McGonagall made sure that both Heads were firstly, not Purebloods, and secondly, not Slytherins. Hermione presumed that Snape had called on that act of injustice, arguing that all students must be treated equal, but she knew that it was all a load of crap. McGonagall simply gave them a taste of their own medicine, picking a Muggleborn and a Half-Blood for the top student positions, knowing perfectly well it would not sit well with the current Hogwarts Administration.

Both she and Anthony were perfectly aware that they were the main targets for hatred and judgement, even more so when the school was practically run by Death Eaters. Luckily, Anthony did not seem all that affected by it and backed her up whenever he could, proving once more that he was more than just a pretty face.

She blushed slightly at the thought, remembering how she used to have a brief crush on him during her Fifth year. And he hadn't been indifferent to her either, always being extra charming when around her. He never made a move though. They only saw each other in Prefect and Head meetings and in common classes, him being from a different house, and Hermione simply assumed that he was just as shy as she was about these things. Even though they were older now and worked great together, the mere act of inviting each other for coffee or tea had never occurred. Maybe she was just imagining things when she had thought he was looking back at her or that he was smiling a little longer than necessary.

Hermione forced those thoughts out of her head. There was a war at stake and here she was thinking about boys. Snap out of it.

"Want me to walk you back to your dorm?"

See? Like Prince Charming. How can you not think about boys when Anthony Goldstein was right in front of your face, being a gentleman?

"It is not necessary Anthony, thank-you. I still want to go to the library before calling it a night."

"Don't overwork yourself, Hermione."

"I'll try not to."

He gave her one final smile, before turning around and heading out himself.

She waited until he left the classroom to utter a small, almost dreamy like sigh.

Hermione sometimes wondered about the future, even if it was only for a brief moment. What would happen after this war? What would happen to her, to Harry, Ron, Anthony, her friends, all the other students, her professors, everyone?

Before knowing she was a witch, Hermione had already made serious, well planned plans for the future – well, as serious as a 9 year old can be. She was going to be a dentist like her parents or if not a dentist, a doctor of some sorts, possibly a vet. She would study hard and make it to the top and she would be the best dentist/doctor/vet the world has ever seen.

She would then find someone suitable to marry, a proper companion who would accompany her in her road to success. The kind of man who would not laugh at her failures and demises and the kind of man who would never bring her down, making her feel less than him. A man who would understand her goals and dreams and who would not feel undermined if she had a better salary than his own. Someone who would challenge her mentally and intellectually and who would love her exactly for who she was, every aspect of her, every flaw, every detail. Then she would have a family of her own and her children would also grow up to become dentists/doctors/vets and she would die happy.

That was the picture perfect of Hermione Granger, until magic came along. And then she became best friends with Harry Potter and now there was a war and she was one of Voldemort's main targets and she could die at any moment.

Not at all like she had planned.

Don't get her wrong, she loves magic. She feels extremely blessed to be a part of this amazing world, to have met the most amazing people and discover all these new creatures. But sometimes, she just wished for… normal. Normality. Common. Boring. She wished she could think about boys and not worry about the fate of the Wizarding World. She wished she could almost flirt with Anthony and not feel guilty about it, not worry about enjoying herself when there were students and friends that needed her help; students and friends that were struggling every day.

Sometimes, she wished she could just be normal.

But she wasn't. She was a witch, a Muggleborn one. And she was Head Girl at the greatest institution of the Wizard World. And she was best friends with Harry Potter. She just had to live with the consequences.

Taking a deep breath and overlooking the desk to see if she had missed anything, Hermione didn't even notice that someone was also still in the meeting room, observing her.

And Draco was observing her. He was observing her quite well since she had started this bloody, useless assembly until the very moment that fucking Goldstein had gazed over her face and hair for a little too long. Oh yes, Draco Malfoy was observing and the view wasn't to his liking.

Fucking Granger and her fucking goody two shoes Head Girl attitude. That prudish, righteous, annoying speech she gave was just for show, wasn't it? It was all a façade. She'd come here, make them all sit through this tedious reunion, speak about magic and Hogwarts and students as if she owned the place and then she would fuck the Head Boy in between meetings! Who knew fucking Granger could be such a hypocrite?

He had tried to stay quiet, he truly did. He was just about to get out of this fucking waste of time when he noticed Goldstein eyeing Granger, probably wondering what to say to her. Draco then was actually curious to find out more, if Mudblood Granger was finally getting any. And if she was, by whom. It seemed like she had snatched herself a Half-Blood and that he was, coincidentally, the Head Boy. Fucking perfect shit fairy tale.

Only she apparently forgot: there is no such things as fairy tales.

"My, my Granger. Who would have thought, you and Goldstein? Bet you've been fucking since Fifth Year."

Hermione was startled by the sudden intrusion into her bubbly world, looking at the back of the room, only to see Malfoy getting up from one of the chairs, making his way towards her. Her hand instinctively went to the wand in the bag she was currently holding, the incident that happened almost two months ago, still fresh in her memory.

Even though Malfoy and she had not crossed paths, seldom on these meetings and classes, she had maintained her close watch on him, more and more convinced that something was definitely off. His behaviour was right down bizarre.

There were moments where he would be extremely cruel to those around him, lashing out and being your typical bully. And there were others when he didn't seem all quite there. He would look detached, apart from everything and everyone. Those were the moments that would stump her the most. She had even witnessed him helping a frightened first year once, who was trying to desperately reach the wand a couple of fourth year Slytherins had placed strategically on a very high shelf, back at the library. She was just about to help the kid when Malfoy appeared, easily grabbed the wand and gave it back. And the first year wasn't even in Slytherin. Hermione remembered her jaw hanging open, long enough to touch the floor.

But never the less, even though Malfoy's actions were incoherent and her thesis on him regretting everything gaining more and more strength, Hermione would not allow herself to be caught off guard around him. He was still Malfoy, he was still vile and he still tried to kill Dumbledore and herself. Nothing could ever change that.

"I knew that cheeky prim was just for specs." He continued, walking calmly in her direction.

Hermione notice his robes were nowhere in sight, Malfoy simply dressed in his Oxford white shirt, which was currently untucked and wrinkly, and a pair of black trousers. She wondered if he had his wand on him and gripped hers tighter, inside her bag.

"What are you still doing here, Malfoy? Meeting is long over." She asked defiantly.

"You call that fucking bore a meeting? Having you frolic around these halls is hard enough. Getting stuck in the same room as you, for an hour, and hear you fucking hammer non-sense is my idea of hell." He was standing right in front of her desk, lazily putting his hands in his pockets.

Hermione's knuckles were turning white.

"Don't feel obliged to come."

"I have to, don't I? One of the hazards of being a fucking Prefect."

"Well if you hate it so much, how come you are still here?" She asked.

He seemed to think for a bit before replying "Curiosity? Wanted to see if Goldstein was actually sticking it in you."

"You are disgusting, Malfoy."

"Me?" he scoffed, a hand going to his heart "You haven't looked at yourself in the mirror lately. How Goldstein can even think about shoving his dick inside your filth is what is disgusting."

"Will you quit that? There is nothing going on between me and Anthony!" She scowled "And even if there was, it is none of your business."

"The hell it isn't my business! I can't let your kind mingle with other fucking wizards, even if he's a fucking Half-Blood, blood traitor."

Hermione groaned in annoyance. It was always the same argument with Malfoy: blood status. Everything was about blood status. It was getting old.

"Whatever, Malfoy. I'm not in the mood for this."

She grabbed her bag and made her away around to table, heading for the exit.

"Who says you have to be in the mood to talk to your superiors?" he called after her.

Hermione didn't reply and tried to open the door, only to find it locked. She groaned again, her head falling towards the wooden surface. She was so not in the mood for this. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? Why couldn't he just leave her alone, for Merlin's sake? Why? She had more pressing and urgent things to do than sit here and listen to fucking Malfoy talk bullshit.

"Don't even try to Alohomora it. It won't work."

Great.

She turned around to face him, a tired and weary expression on her face, too exhausted to even fight anymore. She was sick of these games, of these pathetic displays of superiority. She was worn-out, completely drained. She was tired of everything and everyone always questioning her – her authority, her heritage, herself. She was tired of this fucking war, of this school, of Voldemort. She was fucking fed up with it all! So fed up she had wished for some kind of normality. For a few seconds there, she had wished she wasn't a witch. And how could she even think that? How could she even think about giving up, about turning her back on all of this and just forget everything?

They were to blame. All of them. Malfoy, Zabini, Snape, fucking Carrows and Voldemort. They had turned her fucking life into a living hell and Malfoy had the audacity to come here and complain about his fucking ridiculous problems? Fuck it all.

She snapped, throwing her bag into the floor, wand forgotten.

"You want to talk, Malfoy? Fine, let's talk. Let's start by the reason why you were crying that night, back at the Astronomy Tower. Remember that night? I found you and you were just a mess? And then you put a wand to my neck? You remember? You must remember! How about we talk about that?"

His expression immediately turned sombre, a deep frown across his features as his eyes pierced her, warning her to shut up.

"Or how about we talk about you saving me from Zabini? What was that about? One night you are trying to kill me and on the other you are saving me from your best friend? Saving the Mudblood? A Malfoy protecting a Muggleborn?"

"I didn't fucking save you!" He replied heatedly "I was preventing Blaise from signing his death wish and owling his head to the Dark Lord on a fucking platter. I couldn't care less if you fucking die, Granger, on the contrary. You'd be doing us all a favour. But don't worry, your time will come. And when it does… I'll be there to watch, Granger."

"You'll be where? With Voldemort? Ha!" She snickered, throwing her hands up in the air "After you chickened out on murder, which is like, the top one requirement if you want to be a Death Eater? Don't kid yourself, Malfoy. Voldemort wants nothing to do with you, not after proving, once again, you are a fucking coward."

"I'm not a fucking coward! Don't call me that, you bitch!" He growled.

"Then what should I call you? I'm really at a loss here, because, what the fuck are you? You call yourself a Malfoy, always so proud of your name and family. And what a family it is! Your father's in Azkaban, your – "

"Don't you fucking mention my father, Granger!" He took a menacing step towards her, his eyes wild with anger.

But Hermione wasn't listening. She stopped listening. She stopped caring.

" – mother is back home, probably crying her heart out. Her husband locked away, her son a hated criminal. Your family is torn, over, gone and you still consider it to be a good thing to be a Malfoy? And what more are you? A Death Eater? One that can't even go back to his peers because you know if you do, you'll be smashed to pieces? A student? Everyone here hates your guts, Malfoy. Those morons you consider your friends? They would turn on you in a heartbeat if they knew that you were walking around a Library aiding first year Hufflepuffs!"

"You really need to learn how to fucking shut it, Granger." He warned again, taking another step in her direction.

"And here you are, again, talking about blood status and heritage and fuck knows what is going on through that head of yours, Malfoy! Here you stand, acting all mighty and proud when we both know it's all for show. You are the one that is all for specs, Malfoy. You turned into something so rotten, no one can even swallow what's inside of your skin."

"If anyone here is rotten, Granger, it's you. All of you! You want to know why you try so hard to be the best? To be the best student, the best Prefect, the best Head Girl, the best Witch? You want to know why you try so hard to climb up the ladder? Because, secretly, you wish you were one of us."

"Don't kid yourself, Malfoy. You are wrong."

"Am I? Don't you think I notice? How you always want to be right, how you always hold your chin up high when speaking and how you always try to hide your insecurities with some witty, smart ass response? You never let yourself relax, Granger. You are always working, always trying to overcome everyone, always stating you are a Mugglborn and that you are proud of it and that –"

"I am proud of it, Malfoy! All that I have done, I'm proud of it and I'm proud of my heritage."

"Wrong. You make yourself and everyone else believe that, but deep down, you envy us."

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy. You are so far off on this one!" she exasperated, shaking her head.

"Am I? Is that why you try so hard to get noticed? Why else would you befriend Potty?"

"I didn't befriend Harry because of fame or to get noticed, Malfoy. Unlike you, I don't choose my friends by those standards! I love Harry. He's like a brother to me. I care about him and I stand by him. It has nothing to do with glory or reputation!"

"If you love Potty, why were you in here getting it on with Anthony?"

Hermione widen her eyes at him, disbelief drowning her features. How can he get things so messed up in his head?

"Did you listen to a word I said? Harry is like a brother to me! I love him like a brother. And why the fuck does that even matter?"

"It matters, Granger, because you are a hypocrite. You come to these meetings talking about the importance of house unity and hard work and love and sticking together and all that bullshit, but while your precious Potter and Weasel are out there, risking their lives, you are back here, getting shagged by the Head Boy without a care in the world."

"I'm not shagging Anthony!" she shrieked, the part about Harry and Ron going on without her, striking a nerve. "And I'm doing my part on this war, I've never worked so hard for anything in my life. I'm – "

"And for what, Granger? Nothing will ever change! You'll still be a fucking Mudblood!" he yelled.

"Don't fucking call me that, you coward!"

"DON'T FUCKING CALL ME A COWARD!"

His roar surprised her and she finally noticed that once again, he had gotten much closer to her. He was a mere foot away from her, his chest heaving, his body trembling. She was breathing deeply as well, desperate for some air.

Malfoy stared hard at her, inhaling and exhaling soundly. She was… Merlin, he couldn't describe how much he hated her. Everything about her, he hated. He couldn't fuck stand her. Why couldn't she just die already? Put him out of his misery. Fuck her and all the things she had said. And how on earth had she seen and heard so much? He had been trying so hard to stay the fuck out of her way and here she was, proving that, again, he wasn't stepping up to his game. And she had seen his flaws, his cuts and bruises.

She had no right to. She had no fucking right to anything!

"Everything you think you saw, Granger, everything you said I was…" he said, advancing on her, until her back was against the locked, wooden door. "Everything that comes out of your mouth, Granger, is foul. It reeks. It poisons."

"I know what I saw and I know, that deep down, you are lost, Malfoy. You are fucking lost. You have no place to be, nowhere to go, nothing to hold on to." She answered, refusing to give in to fear like she did last time.

"Bollocks!"

"Is it? Is it really? What have you got going for you, Malfoy? Friends, family? Who is there to protect you now that Lucius is locked away for good?"

"I told you not to mention my father!" he snarled, his two fists hitting the door behind her.

But she wouldn't stop. Not anymore.

"And why the hell not? Why can't I talk about the man you look up to? The man that used to mean so much to you? The man that taught you everything you know? The same man that tried to fuck us all up, that hit your mother, that sullied the Malfoy name and –"

"SHUT UP YOU FUCKING BITCH, FUCKING SHUT UP!"

Malfoy's fists came down on the door again, harder. His breathing laboured, his face red, veins popping out of his neck. His eyes. Merlin, his eyes were wild, frenetic and bulgy.

She looked back at him, as his fists hit the door again and Hermione thought they might break from the force. She was staring straight at him and squealed fearfully when the door banged a third time. Malfoy was literally punching the door. She knew he wished he could be punching her face. She couldn't hide the fear anymore, especially when there was a fourth bang, that seemed louder than all of the others, the noise resonating piercingly in her ears, it was almost deafening.

He was so enraged, hitting the door near her head, making her squirm and yelp every time his fists came in contact with the wood. He was quaking with fury, his chest almost pressed into hers, his face so close, as he bared his teeth and growled, more punching being dealt. The door shook under her back and she wondered how he seemed not feel bothered by the pain.

He kept hitting it and Hermione started to panic, not knowing what to do, cursing herself for the wand in her bag, at her feet. He was hitting the door, but nothing could assure her he wouldn't hit her anytime soon, his fists so close to her head. She had to do something.

Mastering her Gryffindor courage, she made a move to push him by the shoulders, but as soon as her hands were in his line of sight he quickly grabbed them with both of his hands, putting them against the door. She struggled, her current position bringing up too many bad memories, but he kept them in place using his body weight to keep her steady.

"Get off me, Malfoy!" she cried.

But now he was the one who wasn't listening. And he looked at her, right there, again, flushed against him, powerless. He looked at her, at her eyes, her face, her nose, her lips. He looked at her again and this time, this time, he couldn't take it. He couldn't fight it anymore. His fists were red and already bruising and as he tightened his hold on her wrists, he gazed at her lips again and that was it.

Hermione's brown eyes widen twice their normal size when she saw him closing the distance and his face leaning into hers.

No.

No, no, no. Stop, Malfoy.

But he didn't stop. And when she gave another loud yelp, the sound was muffled by his lips on hers.

All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room and time stood very still. Hermione had literally stopped breathing, her chest coming to a halt. His lips felt soft against her own, too soft for such a harsh mouth. Her eyes were so big, staring right back at his. She couldn't make out his emotions, as she drowned herself in those pools of silver, too afraid of swimming any deeper. His hands were a hard grasp on her numbing wrists and the pressure on her lips came back as he kissed her again, harder this time, his body pressing up against her.

No, no, no.

NO!

Hermione was yelling. Her mind was yelling.

No, no. They didn't do this.

He closed his eyes and nipped at her lower lip, roughly.

No, no, no.

She could smell him, all of him. She could feel him, all of him. And his lips… His lips were trying to pry hers open.

No, no, no.

She felt his tongue on her lips and couldn't stifle a gasp.

And that was it.

He opened her mouth with his own and his tongue was wrapping itself around hers, slowly.

And that was it.

Hermione closed her eyes and couldn't yell any longer.

His tongue was dancing around her own and she, finally, joined the dance as well. And Draco groaned loudly from the back of his throat. He was kissing Granger and Granger was kissing back.

Fuck.

He deepened the kiss, taking a deep breath through his nostrils, trying to battle for dominance. She fought back, just like he thought she would. But it wasn't enough. He needed more.

His hands let go of her wrists and for a split second he got afraid she would try to push him away, but all doubts dissipated, when her hands came to rest at his shoulders. With another suck to her bottom lip – Merlin, her lips – he fisted one hand into her hair, gripping the back of her head, pulling her face closer to his. His other came to pull at her waist, as his body pushed her further into the door, his chest feeling hers, their hips aligned. He nipped, sucked and lavished her mouth, marvelling at the taste and the feel.

He was fucking kissing Granger. And it felt like nothing he had felt before.

Fuck.

The hand at her waist moved to her thigh and easily hoisted it up, allowing him to nestle himself against her. And he was sure she could feel him even through her thick robes and skirt. And he was getting harder by the second, especially when she would moan almost silently when his tongue would do something to her mouth that she enjoyed.

Fuck, Granger. How the fuck do you do this to me?

He grinded into her and she gasped, not bothering to muff the sound. He longed to hear it again.

He let go of her mouth, his left hand still nestled inside of her hair, holding the back of her head. He looked at her and almost groaned helplessly at the sight. She had opened her eyes as well and was staring right back at him, her head resting on this hand. Her eyes were dazed and glossy, her cheeks flushed, lips parted as she took deep breaths and her chest rose and fall with each intake. Her wild hair was even messier, framing her rosy features. She looked sexier than ever and she wasn't even trying.

How the fuck could that be?

They kept staring at each other, chests heaving, mouths opened. Malfoy gave her thigh a light squeeze and she panted. Her hands had left his shoulders and were now resting against the door at her back, as she tried to regulate her breathing. But he wanted none of that. He wanted to hear the beautiful sound that was Hermione Granger's moan. So he rolled his hips against her, looking at her intently and suggestively. Her breath itched and small "Ugh" came out of her perfect, swollen, red lips. Her eyes fluttered as she continued to stare at him through her eyelids.

And he couldn't help but kiss her, close his eyes, feel her lips and tongue and get lost all over again.

Hermione's hands couldn't keep still any longer and came to rest at the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her. Again a roll of his hips and again she felt him. And she enjoyed it. Merlin, she did. She was drinking in his lips, like she was dying of thirst. This kiss was much more aggressive, much more passionate. Malfoy was sucking on her lips hard enough to draw blood and when their tongues clashed sometimes their teeth clashed but she didn't care. She stopped caring. She stopped yelling. And here she was, dry humping Draco Malfoy, minutes after another threatening argument.

He was pulling on her thigh, the hand on her head going to her waist, hauling her into him. His strong legs kept her in place, as her feet almost didn't touch the ground and his hips kept their friction against her own.

Merlin, this was too much. It felt too much. How can something so wrong, so sinful, feel so good? She toyed with his hair and it felt so soft. She had secretly wondered, sometimes, when no one was around, how his hair would feel like. He used to wear it gelled back, but not anymore. It was everywhere, tousled and rumpled. And she lavished the feel of it underneath her fingertips. She pulled on it, scratching his neck lightly and she honestly believed she had heard him purr. Merlin, what was this?

Draco kept grinding into her, feeling closer and closer to madness if they kept this up. He broke the kiss, needing air. He needed to breath, he needed oxygen, he needed to think clearly, because as long as she kept kissing and caressing him like that, he couldn't function properly; he couldn't breathe properly, as his chest might burst from the intensity of it al. He took in a deep breath and buried his face into her neck, not wanting to feel the loss of her. The hand on her waist journeyed up, struggling with her robes, reaching her sweater, fingertips on the underside of her breast.

She gasped again, loudly, when she felt his hand at her left breast, palming it clumsily through her clothes. Her head fell back into the door with a loud 'thump', her legs trembling slightly, as she struggled to keep standing, while his hips found a torturous rhythm. His lips showered her neck with kisses and nips, biting her when he felt her hard nipple, pinching it with his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head, her own lips closing in on his ear lobe. Merlin, this was sin, this was pure sin. It was killing her. It was killing her… and she had never felt so alive.

Suddenly, muffled voices could be heard through the door.

Draco froze, his hand still holding her breast, his lips grazing her pulse. Hermione had stopped as well, her eyes on alert, her breathing stilled. She couldn't understand what the voices were saying, nor could she identify them.

"Don't make a sound."

She couldn't help the shiver in her spine at his words, at his hot breath in her ear. She didn't respond, the voices getting louder and louder.

Merlin, what would they say if they saw her now? What would they think of this? Of Hermione Granger, being felt up by the Prince of Slytherin, Death Eater and Albus Dumbledore's supposed murderer. Merlin, what would they say?

She shuddered in doubt and the yelling was coming back. Everything was coming back. The spell was being broken, regret quickly settling in. What would she do if they found her like this? What would be her explanation for this? She closed her eyes. There wasn't any. She didn't have one herself. And that feeling settled itself in the pit of her stomach.

Malfoy was still holding her, silently praying that whoever it was, was not headed this way. The door was locked, but anyone could get suspicious. He could feel her breathing soundlessly against his own neck and his cock twitched, despite his best efforts. He was so hard, it was almost painful. And all of this from a little over the clothes fondling. Merlin, he was fucked up.

The voices reached their peak right by the door, but continued on their way until they were surrounded by silence again, the only sound being their intake of oxygen.

Hermione still had her eyes closed, too afraid to open them up and face the sick and ludicrous reality of the situation. Malfoy still had his hand over her breast and she could feel him hard against her. She released a shaky breath and swallowed, trying to prepare herself for the horrible aftermath, where they both had to come headfirst with the current outcome. It seemed Malfoy had silently agreed with her, for he released her breast and thigh and stood up straight. She followed his lead, unlinking herself from the warmth his body, avoiding eye contact as she found herself once more, resting her stance against the door, cornered by Malfoy's tall frame.

He didn't say anything and for the longest time they stood like that, both of them in silence, Malfoy's hands back in his pockets, eyes directed at the space over her head. She kept her face down and blushed hard, when she noted the visible bulge in his pants. Merlin, this was embarrassing. This was too awkward.

Hermione was afraid he might say something or do something. Maybe try to humiliate her or denigrate her just to make him feel better about himself and his actions. But for now, he seemed settled in just standing there, looking over her shoulder.

Part of her still didn't believe in what just happened. Part of her was revolted, ashamed, confused… While another part of her, a part she decided that would be the smaller part, shamelessly wanted more of it.

And that scared her to death.

That was the part of her that needed to be shut down, immediately. That part must be broken or drunk. It needed to be eliminated.

Hermione needed to get out of here. Fast.

Just when she was about to speak, Malfoy muttered some incantation and she felt the lock on the door clicking. This time, she did look at him, but he wouldn't meet her gaze, his brow burrowed as if in deep concentration, his expression guarded. She wondered if she should say something.

She waited to see if he would threatened her, alarm her or make her promise not to tell anyone. She waited to see if he would feel sick, just as he had said so many times; she waited to see if he felt disgusted. She waited for regret to settle in his face, but it never came. He just stood there.

She quietly grabbed her bag from the floor and turned to open the door. Should she say something?

 _Like what?_

She struggled to find some words to form a sentence, but lamely discovered she had temporarily lost that ability. Hermione had no idea what to say, for she had no idea of what she was feeling. And she could only assume Malfoy was struggling as well.

With one tug at the handle, she opened the door and left.

Draco stared at the now open door, a slight breeze chilling the empty room. His head hurt, his fists were swollen and his stubborn cock was still hard. He released a heavy sigh, not sure what to do next. His thoughts were jumbling around, his lips still reminiscing on the feel of her skin. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of yearning and longing, before having to deal with the world outside of this room; a world of façades and dangerous games and pitiful existences. He allowed himself to think about it again, to take a deep breath of her lingering perfume smell and he almost, almost, smiled.

Draco Malfoy had just kissed Hermione Granger and it had been the best feeling of his life.

* * *

 **Ok! I hope you enjoyed it :) I know I enjoyed writing it! Let me know what you think by reviewing or if you have any other issue you want to discuss with me, PM me!**

 **I'm off to work now! But first and foremost: Have a wonderful day/night wherever you are in the world :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Let's get into Draco's head a bit, shall we?**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Year 2003, June**

 **Little Hangleton**

His knees were starting to hurt.

Fuck.

He had been crouching for too long and his body was complaining. His legs ache and his feet were getting too damn cold. He secured his dark robe closer to his body and took a deep breath through his nostrils, as quietly as he could possibly could. His right hand gripped his wand forcefully and his left hand was planted firmly on the ground beneath him.

The wind blew again, the not-so-hot breeze dishevelling his platinum, blonde hair. He then acknowledged that the hood of his robe had fallen from his head.

Fuck.

He was getting tired of this bullshit. Who knew spying could be such a fucking bother?

And on top of that he was feeling a bit peckish… And had to take a wee. Desperately.

Fucking Death Eaters. What was fucking taking so fucking long?

This was the annoying part no one ever talked about when they were trying to be a fucking hero. All that mattered was the adrenaline, the danger and the glorious aftermath if you were lucky enough to accomplish the task. Nobody talked about the boring, tedious bits; the bits where your body starta to protest about every little thing and you are trying hard just to fucking stay focused. All he wanted was some food and a toilet… and for his fucking kneecaps to grow a pair.

He groaned, silent enough not to draw any attention to himself, as he put the hood over his head. Why was he fucking doing this again? Why the fuck did he care? Since when had he become this righteous person, this wannabe hero?

Draco almost laughed at the irony of it all. No, not almost. He laughed, silently. Draco Malfoy, wannabe hero. How fucking poetic.

He glanced at the clearing just ahead of the bush he was currently crouching behind. The wankers were still inside the damn house. What the fuck were they doing?

This was supposed to be a simple reckon mission. A simple get the tabs on. A simple 'see what they are doing, just to make sure they aren't doing anything'. His knees weren't prepared for this – for this waiting game.

He missed Quidditch. He missed the thrill of being a seeker; of being fast and having fast reflexes. He missed the exercise. Nowadays, he would rarely pick up a broom and when he did, he had to do it carefully. He couldn't be seen. He fucking missed flying. The feeling of being above the world, of being higher than anyone else.

Nowadays, he ran. He ran… a lot. It was his substitute. It was his escape. It was his job. He ran. He always ran. He ran away from and towards. He ran, he crouched, he rolled, he crawled, he –

Fuck. His knees were killing him.

"Fucking wankers, fucking life." He whispered angrily, wincing in pain. He tried to relieve some of the pressure by stretching each leg at a time, trying to keep hidden behind the bothersome shrubbery.

Why was this happening again? Why this? Why? Voldemort was dead. It was over. Fucking move on! Don't cry about it like a bloody baby; don't whine about it like a fucking Hufflepuff!

He peeked at the house again. The faint lights at the window were fading, the shadows were moving.

Ok. This was it.

Draco gripped his wand tighter and felt the sudden jolt of adrenaline pump through his body. He couldn't deny that his excited him. He thrived on this part. The part where he would get one step closer to finding out their next move. He knew they would lead him right to it. He knew them. He had been watching them for over a year. He knew their patterns, their course of action. The little he knew, he knew it well. And he fucking thrived.

The front door opened and out came three hooded figures, one at a time. The last one to emerge was the tallest. As the two first figures went on ahead, the tall one proceeded to cast a spell in the direction of the house.

Draco narrowed his eyes and tried to get a better view of what the figure was doing. He leaned into the shrubbery, ignoring the way some of the leaves brushed painfully against his cheekbones.

Suddenly, the house vanished. In its place now stood a very large, old looking tree. What the…

"A Disillusionment Charm?"

The question had barely left his lips. He didn't even have time to hit himself in the head for being so fucking dumb. Goyle definitely would have made the same stupid mistake and that was the peak of humiliation for Draco. After hours of endless waiting, of knee torture and hazardous bladder conditions… He had to ruin it all with a shitty question. Why no Silencing charm, you fucking idiot?

The spell flew by him, like an arrow, a few millimetres from his precious, robe hidden ears. He only managed to flinch to the right, his body tumbling against the annoying bush, before casting a hex of his own. But the tall figure was far too quick and deflected it with ease.

"Fuck, shit." This was bad.

The figure was coming his way, wand pointed straight at the spot he was currently at. His legs were tangled in the roots and veins of the bush and he struggled to get up. If it weren't for the darkness, Draco knew that the hooded figure would have probably seen him by now and would have probably laughed at how ridiculous the current situation was. Wannabe hero, my fucking ass.

As he attempted to get free from the not-so-convenient-now shrubbery another hex was fired, this one managing to hit his leg that was still caught in the leaves.

Draco bit his tongue, preventing himself from crying out loud and giving away his exact location. He battled with the bush, his left leg painfully aching. He didn't have time to access the leg or see the damage. All he knew was that he still had it, it was still attached to his body and it fucking hurt.

Finally, he was able to break free from the never-hiding-behind-this-again bush and broke out into a run towards the forest. The pain on his left leg was quickly spreading upwards and he took a quick glance at it, as the cold air hit his lungs and the trees moved past him. There was a wet spot on his trousers where he was hit, possibly blood. He needed to check it fast, because the throbbing was rapidly intensifying.

He kept running, the hood on his head not able to stay in place. Fuck. If there was a time where he actually wished he was born with a different colour hair, now was the time. Fuck. Why hadn't he prepared better? He wasn't a fucking amateur. He had been doing this for the last 3 years. And over a simple Disillusionment Charm?

A hex hit a tree just as Draco ran by it.

He cursed again, quickly accessing that whoever was firing those hexes needed to practice their aim. He wondered how it had managed to hit him. Was it just luck? His fucking funeral.

Without diminishing his speed, Draco turned his head to see if the hooded figure was indeed on his tail. He saw a shadow a few meters behind him, moving fast between the dark trees. Whoever this guy was, he knew how to see in the dark.

Draco casted a quick _Confundus_ Charm, but the hex missed.

"Fuck!" He hissed to himself.

He tried to pick up the speed, the adrenaline pumping through his veins and into his muscles. He was panting loudly, his lungs seemingly sucking up all the oxygen available. He turned and fired another hex:

" _Everte Statum_!"

He nearly snickered when he heard a loud grunt and something heavy hitting the ground. He never once missed this one. Potter could fucking testify to it.

His body was reaching its limit and his leg situation was getting close to unbearable, almost making him wish he had indeed cut it off. But he had to keep going. That hex would only hold the hooded figure for so long. He had to find somewhere to hide, where he could deal with his leg and hurriedly _Apparate_ away.

Fucking hell. They did not pay him enough for this.

Draco snorted. What the hell was he thinking? They didn't pay him at all. To them this was Draco giving back. This was Draco making amends with the bloody wizarding society, with the fucking wankers that ruled over Wizard Britain. This was Draco Malfoy doing what was right. The right thing. This was fucking Malfoy being a fucking hero.

Only he wasn't a hero. He would never be one. He was a Malfoy. He was the son of a Death Eater. He himself had been a Death Eater. The humming on his arm reminded him of that fact. The stronger that Mark hummed and teemed, the more he knew that he would never be a fucking hero, a golden boy, a fucking Harry Potter. And he didn't want to. He didn't want any of it.

He wanted to be left alone, to drown himself in his wealth. He wanted to live the rest of his days buried in a book, in a story, in a fantasy. He wanted a woman at his side, someone that he could shag as he pleased and he wanted to fall asleep in silk sheets, exhausted and naked; satisfied. That was how Draco wanted to live. That _is_ how Draco Malfoy wants to live, like a true fucking king. To live the way a Malfoy deserves to live and will ever deserve to live. That is how he wants to die. Not here, in this fucking forest, running to save his own ass.

So, if he wanted none of it and if he wasn't a hero… what the hell was he doing here in the first place, working for the light? Risking his life for those fucking tossers? Spying on his damn kind!

He almost didn't miss a tree on time, his body not responding to his brain. Fuck, he needed to stop or he would pass out. His breathing was so hard that his ribs were painfully constricting his lungs. He needed to stop. Now.

Just as the thought came into his head, Draco was suddenly pushed to his left. He felt something hit the right side of his body and with a not-so-subtle grunt he collapsed, dirt getting into his nose and mouth, smearing his face. His hurt leg twisted awkwardly and the ground stung the wound.

Merlin, this was not his day.

Quick on his reflexes, he turned upwards on the ground and pointed the wand at the figure looming over him. He only had the time to acknowledge it was not as tall as the other one chasing him, before two quick spells were cast.

" _Expelliarmus_! _Silencio_!"

His wand flew from his hand and his frustration couldn't even be heard. The figure was fast. Almost too fast.

Just as Draco began to assume the worst of the worst, the figure collapsed against him, muttering another charm. Draco struggled effortlessly without his wand, trying to pry it off him, but another spell was cast and he suddenly couldn't move.

 _Fuck. I'm going to die here._

The realization hit him and his heart was pounding frenetically against his ribcage. If he wasn't Silenced, the sound could be heard all over the darkness of the forest. With his body immobilized he tried to scream, yell, talk. He tried but nothing was heard. He was completely and helplessly paralysed, in every possible way.

The figure was straddling him now, sitting unceremoniously against his chest. The hood on its face prevented Draco from looking up to his opponent, his killer.

 _At least have the decency to look at me whilst you kill me, fucking bastard._

The figure drew its wand again.

Draco Malfoy closed his eyes.

 _Granger…_

And nothing happened.

He opened them again and the figure had indeed cast a spell but it wasn't the spell Draco had been waiting for.

 _Another Disillusionment Charm?_

And it had been cast on them both.

Draco's mouth hung open as the figure slowly revealed the face that was under the hood.

 _Astoria?_

Astoria Greengrass brought one finger to her lips, signalling him to keep quiet. Draco wondered why, since he was silenced, bounded and, apparently, hidden from sight.

And, as if on cue, Draco heard movement to his right. His gaze landed on the tall, running figure that had been after him. It had a slight limp.

 _At least I managed to hurt the fucker back._

The figure stopped suddenly, looking around at its surroundings. Astoria and Draco remained unmoving and quiet, the Disillusionment Charm serving its purpose. The figure stared right through them as if they weren't even there… and to it, they weren't.

"Did you find him?"

Draco almost snapped his neck to look at another figure approaching them from behind. Astoria gripped his arm, a signal for him to keep still.

"No. He must have _Apparated_." The tall figure responded.

Draco's eyes narrowed in realization when he heard that voice. His doubts had been confirmed.

 _Fucking Blaise._

"Leave it. It's risky to stay any longer. Let's go."

He couldn't recognize the second voice.

The second figure, which was smaller than the first, reached forward with what looked like some sort of coin. As the two of them touched the coin, they soon vanished.

 _A Portkey?_

Draco released a breath of relief.

He didn't die. He was alive.

 _Fuck._

He felt something pull at his leg and looked down to see Astoria ripping his trousers. The blood had stopped gushing but he noticed countless, little veins spreading up his leg, just as it would happen if he were to be bitten by a snake. The wound itself wasn't very big, but the pain was persistent.

"It's an old dark curse. It is eating away at your leg." Astoria informed, before quickly positioning her wand.

Draco's screams were muffled by the _Silencio_ charm. It hurt. Astoria's tiny hands were trying to sooth him, caressing his leg gently as her counter-spell took effect. Draco's vision blurred with the pain. Whatever Blaise had hit him with, it was meant to kill. Draco was lucky it had hit the leg. If it had hit somewhere else…

Time seemed to pass slowly and it felt like hours before the pain began to subside. Draco could feel some fresh tear marks on his cheeks. He normally would have felt ashamed, crying like a child because of some stupid hole on his leg. It reminded him of Longbottom. Of course, the Gryffindor student had, during that final year before the final battle, transformed himself into a brave, young man. But for some reason, Draco would never forget the way Longbottom would cower on their earlier Hogwarts days. He remembered how he would laugh at the boy's distress; how he found it funny and pitiful. And right now, here he was, a man trying to be a hero, crying in the arms of a girl.

Pathetic.

When Draco had finally calmed down, Astoria removed all the charms. She mumbled a quick _Reparo_ on his trousers and proceeded to lift herself of him. She glanced quickly to see if they were indeed alone and momentarily safe.

"Are they gone?" Draco's throat ached and his voice cracked for a second. He sat up on the ground, grabbing his wand in the process.

"I think so, yes." She replied, helping him up.

He took her hand and managed to stand up, leaning slightly against a nearby tree. His leg looked normal now, but it wasn't hundred percent functional yet.

"Thanks."

Astoria merely shrugged in reply, taking another glance at their surroundings.

Draco sighed quietly, feeling guilty. He always felt guilty when she was around, always felt like he owed her something and would never be able to pay her back in full. And she kept increasing the debt.

Astoria Greengrass, sister of Daphne Greegrass, was supposed to be his start at a new life. After he left Hogwarts, Draco wanted nothing more than to sulk and disappear. No, not want… had to. His last minute redemption had earned confusion and pride from some, but disgust, revulsion and hatred from others. Killing off Voldemort had made a huge difference, yes. But you can't expect to change people's mentalities in a heartbeat. Killing the leader may be a huge victory, but it would be years before the thought of blood supremacy would vanish from the Wizarding society, especially in the older families. And a lot of Draco's friends and comrades belonged to those families. Simply put, the end of the war may have brought some safety to Muggleborns and Half-bloods, but for a Pureblood like Draco Malfoy… Let's just say that many of Voldemort's followers, who weren't caught immediately, would happily off Draco at any chance they got.

So, he did what he had to do: he fled. He disappeared. He made arrangements to keep his parents safe and the next day he was gone. And for months he was alone. For months he had travelled places, he had learned knew things. He grew physically and mentally. And one day, on a secluded wizard village north of Ireland, he saw someone he recognized. He saw her on a little café, drinking tea and the moment she looked back at him, she recognized him instantly. Astoria Greengrass had grown into a beautiful, young woman and instead of fleeing from him or hexing his guts, she had smiled. And for the first time in months, Draco felt something was finally changing.

Their relationship was pretty much perfect. She was smart, bright and a beast with her wand. For about a year they travelled together. She rapidly became his companion, his lover and best friend. They were content and happy. He knew he could count on her, for everything. She would always stay by his side. She never fully disclosed what she was doing away from her family or how she came to be with him, but Draco suspected that, unlike what he once thought, some Purebloods simply didn't think like the majority. And Astoria clearly was one of them.

When he proposed, she had said no. Not because she didn't want to. She did, she loved him. But, even though Astoria didn't think like the majority, it didn't mean that she had forgotten her roots and upbringings. She had been raised a Pureblood and things had to be done a certain way.

"We need to head back. You need my family's blessing. And I need yours."

Draco had cursed in response; said they didn't need anyone's fucking blessings but agreed anyway.

Coming back to wizard England had been a shock at first. Things had definitely changed. The Manor was still standing and his parents were still there. Apparently, the Ministry had made a deal with them. In exchange for information, they would help keep them safe. Of course Lucius hadn't been very happy about that but what else could he do? It was either that or Azkaban again.

His mother had wept like a baby when she saw him again and then proceeded to fill him with food. It's not like I starved, mother. I was pretty good at treating myself. I even learned that I'm an exceptionally good cook.

His father, well… Lucius did what was to be expected. Gave him a once over and snorted. Of course, when Draco had informed he was to be engaged to Astoria Greengrass, his father was almost happy. Clearly he had no idea that Astoria did not share the same beliefs as her family. And her family, well, they didn't react as "happily" as Draco's parents. What had they called Draco? A "cowardly traitor"? Or "a cowardly traitor just like his father"? Nevertheless, the engagement was settled. Draco Malfoy would marry Astoria Greengrass.

And for a while, that's all he had wanted. Astoria was his clean start; she was the hope to a new life for Draco. She was everything he wanted in a woman. She was perfect for him. She was…

A noise startled him from his thoughts. Astoria had heard it as well. They both started hard at the direction from which it had come from, expecting someone or something and slumped their shoulders in relief, once they found out it was just a rat.

"We should go. I'll take you." She offered, putting her wand back in her robes.

"I'm fine. I can make it home ok." He countered, limping towards her.

"That curse was a powerful one, you'll be feeling it for days. It's best if I take you." She replied, a concerned look on her features.

"How did you know what it was?"

He could feel her snort in the dark. "Don't forget who you are talking with, Draco."

He smirked back at her. Right. Before leaving England, Astoria had been studying to be a Healer. And she was a fucking good Healer. The best he had seen, Madame Pomfrey excluded.

Beautiful, smart, one damn good Healer and still… Draco couldn't go through with it. He couldn't go through with the engagement, the wedding, the relationship… He couldn't go through with any of it. And all because of one stupid mistake; all because of one fucking glance, at the wrong fucking place, at the wrong fucking time.

"So, now we know for sure Blaise is a part of this." She stated, helping him limp away to the farthest point of the forest, so they could _Apparate_ away. "Are you going to tell the Ministry?"

Draco seemed to think about it. He already told the Ministry about his suspicions regarding the dark skinned wizard. He knew Blaise was somewhat involved, but having the confirmation shoved in his face... it upset him. His relationship with Blaise had taken a toll for the worst, after both of them became associated with Voldemort. Blaise finally showed his true colours and Draco became aware that his hatred for Muggleborns was deep, so deep, that in fact he tried to kill Granger.

He grimaced. Didn't he try to do the same?

The point is, after that, Blaise and Draco kind of went through different paths and after Draco's jump to the light, he never heard of Blaise again. He knew that the Ministry failed to capture him, but somewhere along the way, Draco had a slight hope that the dark wizard would come to his senses. He clearly didn't. He had heard stories and he had seen first hand what Blaise could do, especially during those awful, disgusting summonings to Voldemort's presence. Suspecting Blaise's involvement didn't surprise him, but experiencing it first hand, well... that was a different matter.

"I have to think about it. If I do tell them, I have to make sure they keep the fucking cavalry from charging. One wrong move and it's over." He frowned at the thought of the Golden Trio springing to the rescue. "Also, they now know someone is spying on them, so they'll be more careful from here on out."

"Do you think they'll retaliate?"

"Possibly, yes. They still don't know who the spy is or if he belongs to the Ministry or any other organization. What they do know is who the Ministry is keeping tabs on and who is still on the lamb. And they are doing a fucking good job keeping under the radar. Whatever it is they are planning, they are doing it soon. They have been bloody restless this past week."

"Who do you think? Muggleborns first, right?" She asked.

"If they are still honouring that demented, old sicko's wishes, I won't be surprised if there's an attack on the Muggle world."

He sighed, his leg still complaining. Also, if Blaise was indeed in charge or responsible, Muggleborns will be the unsurprising first target. Had Draco truly been like Blaise at one point in his life? It all seemed so ludicrous now, this hate for other wizards, this mission to make Purebloods the only ones worthy of living and experiencing magic. How can Blaise still think this way? Hadn't he grown at all? Hadn't he seen the bigger picture yet?

"You should warn Granger." Astoria advised him.

Draco didn't reply as they kept limp-walking.

Granger. It all went back to Granger. Fucking Hermione Granger… Well, Weasley now.

Astoria noticed the change in his posture, how his limbs tensed and how his eyes lowered to the ground. She was reminded of the day he had told her about his affair – if you could call it that – with Granger, during his final year at Hogwarts. She had been consumed, not by his tale of the events but by the way his body responded when he talked or thought about Hermione Granger. Draco Malfoy had never been so tense and so excited at the same time. He was hurting and gleaming all together. And the way her name rolled of his tongue… Astoria knew it hadn't been a simple affair. Draco Malfoy had loved Hermione Granger. He had loved her bad. He had loved her in a way he would never love Astoria. And Hermione had been the main reason for him to change his beliefs, for him to make the jump to the other side. She had been his saviour.

So, when he broke off the engagement, she wasn't surprised. She wasn't surprised at the reason behind it and she certainly wasn't surprised it happened when it did. Draco Malfoy may have been lots of things, but the one thing that she could never hold up against him was lack of honesty. Draco was always honest with her, always told her what he felt and thought. And that is exactly what happened. He had seen her, he had seen Granger… and everything came rushing back. They didn't even talk, she didn't even saw him, but it had been enough for him. And when he had learned that something was going on in the Pureblood circle; something deep, something secret, something no one was supposed to know, he knew he couldn't let happen. For her, for everything, for the wizards, for the Muggleborns and Half-bloods… but especially for her. She had saved him and he wouldn't not save her.

"I can handle it. Granger doesn't need to know a thing." He finally said, the sound of his voice echoing in the trees.

"You work with the Ministry, Draco. You have an obligation – "

Draco didn't even let her finish "Oh for fuck's sake, you sound like her now. I have no bloody obligations to those people. I'm doing them a favour and I get to choose what to tell them and who to tell it to."

Astoria frowned and stood in front of him, a scowl on her face.

"Stop being so dramatic. You need help. You can't do this alone, not even with me saving your bloody ass every-time you get into trouble."

"Nobody asked you to save me." He replied coldly. He knew he wasn't being fair, but after being crouched for hours, making an idiot mistake, getting hit and becoming close to losing his leg or worse and still having the need to pee and eat, was making him a bit cranky.

Astoria was slitting him apart with her stare.

She knew she didn't need to be doing this. He never asked her for anything. After they parted ways, Draco disappeared again. And for another year she heard nothing from him. She ended up finishing her studies and became a Healer. She eventually moved to another town, London not being her favourite place. She started a whole new life for herself and even went on a few dates. But she knew who the love of her life was, even though, he would never love her back. So, again, when she encountered him, bleeding and broken at her doorstep, almost dead, she just couldn't leave him be.

She tended to him, healed him and all the while he told her where he had been, what he had seen and the dangers of what was to come. He never did tell her how he had found out where she lived, but that was his secret cry for help. He couldn't do it alone and even though he never asked her directly for it, she made a deal with herself and agreed to aid him. Because that is what you do for the ones you love, right? First and foremost, Draco Malfoy was her friend and Astoria was there for her friends.

She kept staring hard at him, waiting for the apology he would never give out loud. He was stubborn like that. He growled in annoyance, before finally mumbling:

"I'll tell them."

And that was Draco Malfoy apologizing.

Astoria grabbed his arm again and they began walking. A few more minutes and they would reach the edge of the forest. She would _Apparate_ them to his house, make sure he was ok and then head back to her own place.

"Have you went to see your parents, yet?" She asked, secretly knowing the answer.

"No." That was all he said.

"Too dangerous?"

"I don't know… but I don't want to find out."

She nodded in agreement.

They were almost out of the woods – literally – and Astoria secretly wished things could be different. When Draco had told her he was going to the Ministry, she was apprehensive but glad. If he had more help it meant that, maybe, she could relax a little in her duty to be there for him. But she knew half the reason he was going to the Ministry was because of Granger.

After he heard that Hermione was finally getting married to Ron Weasley, something inside him snapped. And Astoria could only watch as he unravelled. Even with her engagement to Weasley, Draco wouldn't stop. He kept risking his life, finding out more and working hard. Hermione Granger had no idea that Draco Malfoy was risking everything just to keep her safe and she wouldn't even dream that Astoria Greengrass was aiding him on his mission. She had a slight hope that once Hermione got married, Draco would just stop and give up, but on the contrary. He kept going. And now he was in the Ministry and he would see her and talk to her and…

Astoria sighed, defeated. She was a stupid woman. After years of being away, she had to deal with it all over again. She wasn't sure she could this time.

Draco turned his head at her sigh and felt his heart constrict with pain. Once again, he owed Astoria his life. He almost resented her for it, knowing he would never be able to thank her enough or give her what she truly wanted. He knew she was still in love with him, why else would she be doing this? As much as Astoria didn't share the Pureblood vision, he knew she would never enter a War without an ulterior motive. It wasn't that she didn't care, it was just… She was the neutral one. She would do her part as the Healer and that was it.

When he went to her, after not going ahead with his engagement, Draco felt horrible. He was badly hurt, had practically been maimed by a vampire and the only person he could think of was Astoria. He had learned from a close source that she was living near Manchester and next thing he knew, he was sitting at her doorstep, barely breathing. And when she had helped him, he owed her at least an explanation. He didn't expect her to join his cause, he never once thought about asking her. He didn't have the right. But she did anyway and, right now, she was his greatest ally. He could never repay her enough.

She had supported him when he told her he was going to the Ministry, even though part of the reason was because of Granger's marriage. Draco Malfoy wasn't many things, but he was certainly an idiot to still love a woman who was married to another. To still care so much, to risk his life and ally himself with people he resented. To have his chest swell up every time he saw her or talked to her. He was painfully, desperately in love with fucking Granger and if he had to die for her… so be it. If that made him the hero he never wanted to be, he would pay the price for it. Anything for her.

He groaned. Merlin, he was, indeed, a fool.

He took a glance at the woman assisting him and just as he went to open his mouth to mutter "I'm sor–" Astoria cut him short, jabbing her elbow into his chest.

"Don't apologize, Malfoy. Just fucking walk. You are bloody heavy and this forest is damp and cold and I want to go home. So, move it."

And he did.

* * *

 **First of all, I'm truly sorry for not updating for like... two months? Yeah. God. Adult life man... Work and work and work. Sigh.**

 **I had the whole thing mapped in my head, with a special chapter prepared for Christmas (my gift to you amazing people) but work and life got in the way. Not making up excuses! The chapter is ready and I'll upload it as soon as I start writing the next one.**

 **Anyway, I hope you are enjoying this story and thank-you for sticking with it.**

 **And, of course, have a wonderful day/night wherever you are in the world :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Merry** **Christmas!**

 **... she said 3 months later. Sorry. This chapter was a hassle. I kept re-writing it. But I think you'll enjoy it, if you know what I mean *wink wink*** **  
**

 **Enjoy :)**

 **WARNING: Mature content ahead. Read at your own risk.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own HP.**

* * *

 **Year 1997, December (Christmas Eve)**

 **The Library**

"Idiot, idiot, idiot…" Hermione mumbled to herself. She looked annoyingly at the parchment in front of her and let out another tired sigh. Her petite hands gripped at the paper and with one final puff of breath she tore it in two and tossed the remains dramatically into the bin under the desk.

"You are a bloody idiot…" She continued her insistent mumbling before grabbing another page and inking her quill.

This bloody essay was going to be the death of her. Here she was, on Christmas Eve, struggling to finish what was supposed to be a heartfelt essay about Muggle Culture… heartfelt with bloody prejudice. Muggle Studies were taught by none other than the dreadful Alecto Carrow and she was pretty keen on making Hermione's life a living hell. Even after professor McGonagall had requested that Hermione be exempt from that class, Snape was having none of it:

"As Hogwarts Headgirl, Miss Granger must be of an example to all the students. What would they say if they found out she had some kind of special treatment, regarding this school's lectures?"

"I'm sure you can understand, Headmaster, that Hermione being Muggle and Headgirl has no use for such a class. She has much to do already. Surely you can make an exception, just this once?" McGonagall had asked.

"Muggle or not, Miss Granger will take the class. It is as you say. She's a Muggle, so she will excel in this class, don't you reckon?" And Snape had answered.

And Hermione had to follow the rules. And play by the book. And try to give the example.

And she did. Ever since she had stepped foot in the classroom, Alecto made sure she referred it every-time.

"Oh look, the Mudblood! I'm hoping you came with a different attitude this time around, Granger. My wand is actually getting tired of putting up with you for so long." She would say with the most sinister smile she could master.

By wand she actually meant some of the curses Hermione had to endure, every-time she would refuse to comment on whatever atrocity Alecto was teaching about Muggles. Or every-time she would try to intervene, calling out Alecto's complete ignorance on the Muggle world. Of course, that was in the beginning. After several _Cruciatus_ , Hermione had learned to simply keep her mouth shut. She would normally stay after class for 'detention' – as Alecto called it – for undermining a teacher's authority and wisdom.

Even though Hermione never went as far as calling her a bitch once, Alecto kept her classroom very strict and Hermione had learned that the very hard way. Bitch was one of Alecto's number one "no, no's". Hermione didn't even sleep that night, the pain being so intense. And every detention after that, Alecto would always mention how she had called her a bitch.

But this time, Alecto decided to take a different route. After another dreadful lesson, where she mainly discussed the perversity of Muggle Christmas and how they would all simulate sexual intercourse with a turkey (yes, she had said it), Hermione forgot the rules and decided to intervene. She abruptly told Alecto to shut it, arguing she was completely oblivious to the subject.

"Are you saying I'm not familiar with the Muggle ways, Miss Granger? Are you implying I'm dumb?"

"I'm implying you know perfectly well that everything you teach in this class is utter rubbish."

Again the sinister smile and a simple reply "Detention after class, Mudblood."

Hermione was prepared for it. She had endured so many curses by now, she knew them by heart: how they felt, the duration they would be depending on how hard you grasped your wand, the taste they left in your mouth, the way your bones cracked in all the wrong places. She had memorized it all. So she was mildly surprised when, after class, Alecto simply sat at her desk, grading some papers. She noticed that the Gryffindors were all getting Poors. Go figure.

"I suppose you are waiting for another torture session, Granger, but my wand is quite sick of you. Sadly, I'll have to think of another way to punish you." Alecto said, without even sparing her a glance.

Hermione didn't reply. Straightening her back she waited patiently, like she would if she were on trial.

"Since you clearly have absolutely no idea of the ways of your _people_ …"

Hermione wanted to slap her, noting the face of disgust she made when she said 'people'.

"… I suggest you do an essay about Muggle Christmas, in regards to what I said today in this classroom and with some research of your own. I want 30 inches of parchment by Thursday."

"But… that's Christmas day!" Hermione argued.

"Yes! Isn't that jolly?" she exclaimed.

"Four days for a thirty-inch essay?"

"Well, don't they call you the brightest witch of our age? It's time you prove it, Granger."

Hermione was about to retort but as she opened her mouth and saw Alecto's face, she knew it was no good. If she kept arguing, not only would she risk added inches but Alecto's wand could be feeling slightly better today. She made the wise decision to just go with it.

True, it was Christmas but she wasn't going anywhere. Where would she go to? Mrs. Weasley had insisted she came to the Burrow, but Hermione had politely declined, not really in the mood for celebrating when there was imminent war brewing. Ginny had tried to convince her as well, stating she needed a break from it all; a break from the Slytherins and the Carrows and Snape and Hogwarts. A "well-deserved holiday" she had said. But how could Hermione take a holiday when students were being tortured and attacked? When Ron and Harry were still out there, somewhere, alone, fighting for their lives? When she had the responsibility, as Head Girl and as a member of the Order of Phoenix, to keep the students safe? Hermione couldn't rest, she couldn't take a break. Not until this was all over.

Before she could even accept her fate, Alecto made a warning:

"And I hope you have the decency to write me a good essay, Granger. None of that 'I love Muggles and Muggles are amazing' crap. I want the facts and the truth. If you get side-tracked I'm sure I'll find a way to make you regret it." Alecto had lost her smile this time "My wand is indeed tired of you but there are so many sweeter, innocent and filthy Mudbloods in this school. Are you certain you want their blood on your hands?"

The way she had said filthy Mudblood...

She stopped her train of thought. Hermione couldn't think about him right now.

She took a deep breath.

So, Alecto was making her write an essay where she had to bash Muggleborns and Muggles. And she had to do it or other students would feel the wrath of Alecto's wand, even if some of them had felt it already she reckoned. That hurt more than every _Cruciatus_ curse Hermione had ever endured. This was an all-new level of cruelty. Making her dismiss and bad mouth her own heritage? The heritage she was so proud of. Her own friends, family… Herself? This was degrading.

"Are we clear, Granger?" Alecto asked.

"Yes… Professor Carrow." The words felt like ashes in her mouth.

"Good. You are dismissed. Get the hell out of my sight, Mudblood."

Hermione looked down at her essay once again and grabbed her hair in frustration. How was she supposed to this? How was she supposed to write so many lies, so many degrading lies? How was she supposed to fucking do this? To deny everything she believed in? To distort every bit of dignity and humanity she had left? How was she supposed to write this essay, without feeling sick with herself; sick in her stomach, almost about to puke her brains out.

She had already re-done it about five times since she had started the damn thing. It was Christmas Eve, the essay was due tomorrow and here she was, hidden in the Library, too ashamed to tell anyone what she was doing. Too ashamed of herself… What would anyone say if she told them what she was writing? The brutality of these words… It hurt her. It shamed her. Merlin… why was she going through this? What had she done to deserve this?

Hermione was never one to wallow in self-pity. She was a strong girl, a brave girl. She was raised to be that way: strong, resilient. Still, she had her struggles, her insecurities, her moments of pain and grief. She had her moments. She did. She had had moments when she had wished not to be a witch; when she had wished not to be best friends with Harry Potter. Moments when she had wished she could simply be a normal Muggle girl. But she wasn't and this was the life she had. This was her life, Hermione's life and if she had to trade her soul with the devil to save the Wizarding World, she would. If she had to write bullshit to save students, she would. Even if it cost her her dignity and self-respect... she had to. What could she do? Lives were at stake: the students, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Seamus… Merlin, she needed to protect them! And if this bloody parchment helped in their protection, she had to pull herself together, swallow her pride and be brave. Be a Muggle. Be a Gryffindor. Be Hermione Granger.

Inking her quill again, Hermione glanced briefly at the clock on the wall beside her. The little hands on the clock were promptly stuck between the ten and the eleven.

"Meaning it is five minutes to eleven…" she mumbled again, unknowing of the fact that she had said it out loud.

Her head refocused its attention on the parchment in front of her. Just twenty-five inches left.

She chuckled sadly. Yes, just twenty-five more inches and the students would be safe… for twenty-four hours at least. She knew nothing could prevent that stupid Alecto bitch from hurting another student if the opportunity presented itself. At least Hermione could sleep tomorrow with a slightly lighter consciousness… she hoped.

She was lacking sleep, nowadays, with all that was going on with Hogwarts and Voldemort and DADA and the other students… the Slytherins… Malfoy…

And there it was again.

Malfoy.

Her left hand went to touch her lips involuntarily.

They had kissed. Two weeks ago they had kissed. No. They hadn't just kissed, that wasn't just a kiss… That was raw. It was brutal. It was fireworks and…

She closed her eyes and cringed inwardly.

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had kissed and it had felt damn good. And during the kiss… Oh Merlin, during that kiss she had remembered. She had remembered that Valentine's night in the Library… She had remembered –

A noise startled her.

Hermione quickly dropped her quill and grabbed her wand from the table. She rose from her chair, wand at the ready, eyes searching frenetically. Since it was quite late and it was Christmas, the Library was currently deserted, no one wanting anything to do with it. Any noise that wasn't her doing only meant that something or someone was lurking about.

Her fingers tighten around her wand, her heartbeat raising. She continued to look around, her eyes trying to adjust in the darkness, the only source of light coming from two lanterns she had on the table. She breathed silently, her ears trying to catch any other sounds. Was there someone spying on her?

"Put the wand down, Granger."

Hermione quickly faced the source of the spoken sentence. She unmistakably knew that voice. She would always know that voice. It was carved into her.

There, a few feet ahead of her, Draco Malfoy stumbled awkwardly into her vision. The lanterns slowly revealed his tall frame, as he struggled to take the right steps. He wasn't wearing his Hogwarts uniform (did he ever?), clad in simple black pants and a grey sweatshirt. And as he slowly made his way towards her she knew that something wasn't right, for he was clearly struggling to maintain his balance, his right arm aiding itself on one of the bookshelves. Still, Hermione kept pointing her wand at him.

What was he even doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be back home, with his dear mother, celebrating Christmas, while planning the world's demise and praising Voldemort for his accomplishments?

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she inquired harshly.

He stumbled again, bracing himself on the bookshelf and looked at her.

"I could ask you the same thing, Granger. Shouldn't you be out and about, celebrating Christmas with your bloody Gryffindor pals? Eating some lovely turkey with your Muggle parents? Shagging the Weasel under the table?"

Hermione didn't reply, noticing from his slurred speech that something was off. Something was wrong, definitely wrong. Was he drunk?

"I bet you would like that, wouldn't you? Safely tucked away near a cosy fire, eating fucking strawberries while Weasel fucked you hard into the rug." He laughed sardonically. "And in the morning you each would open up fucking Christmas presents and kiss each other under the mistletoe! A fucking fairy tale for Potty's best friends."

"I'll ask you again, Malfoy." She ignored him, deciding that was the best course of action "What are you doing here? Are you spying on me?"

He laughed again "Spying on you? Merlin, Granger you really do think highly of yourself. Why would I waste my fucking time spying on you, Mudblood?"

There it was. The word. _That_ word. The word she was supposed to write a million times over in her essay. The word that kept plaguing her, over and over and over again. That fucking word. She heard it so many times now, it was practically impregnated in the English language. The Carrows, the Slytherins, Voldemort… everyone used that fucking word. Yet, when it came from him, it hurt so much more. And Hermione had trouble figuring out why.

"I'm sick of telling you, Malfoy, not to call me that." She warned, her wand trembling in her hand.

Malfoy snickered but remained silent, as if contemplating what his next move would be. He decided that the wand had to go. Not that Granger would try anything, she was too good for that. But, nonetheless, it was distracting him and he wanted to talk to her without the peril. He was risking enough as it was, coming here late at night, looking for her, with the amount of alcohol in his system. He needed to make this worthwhile and he could do without Granger's hexing.

"And I already told you to put your wand down, Granger." He said, taking another step towards her.

"Get out of here, Malfoy, before I hex you back to wherever hole you came from."

"Ooo, scary, Granger." He joked, still making his way towards her, slowly "You like pointing your wand at the poor, wandless Slytherin drunk?"

Hermione inhaled sharply. So, he was drunk. At least he was capable of admitting it but that didn't mean he wasn't a threat. Malfoy was good at wandless magic and he was still stronger than her. And let's not forget the recent trying to kill her ordeal.

"I don't care if you're drunk. Get the hell out of here. I mean it." She threatened again.

"Why, Granger? Why would I want to do that? I'm perfectly content in being here. Watching you squirm is ever so interesting."

Hermione didn't like where this was going. He was much closer to her now and she still hadn't used her wand. Damnit, Hermione. Pull it together, do something. Hex him. Make a run for it.

She looked around her to see if she could just run her way out of this situation, cursing herself for her lack of bravery when it came to hexing Malfoy. She was trapped between two bookshelves, a wall behind her and Malfoy right in front of her.

Merlin, she had just wanted to write the fucking essay.

Malfoy continued to advance on her and Hermione was quickly getting nervous and scared. This could go either way. He could just intimidate her and choke her or he could just –

"Stop thinking about whatever it is you are thinking, Granger." He smirked as his chest barely touched the tip of her wand. "I just want to talk to you."

"Well I don't want to talk to you, Malfoy. I want you to leave."

Malfoy took a moment to look at her. She seemed a bit out; large, dark circles under her eyes. Her petite frame was slightly quivering and her hand looked like it was cramping from holding her wand so hard. She looked… exhausted, for the lack of a better word.

He had to admit, he hadn't thought this through. He blamed the firewhisky, it completely clouded his judgement and in his drunken state, all he could think of was Hermione Granger. And it angered him. For two weeks he had tried to avoid her as much as he possibly could, after that kiss…

Draco closed his eyes for a brief second, memories flooding his brain.

Merlin, that kiss. The best kiss of his life. The best feeling of his life. And it shouldn't be. It shouldn't be with her, with Hermione Mudblood Granger.

He opened his eyes again and let them wander lazily onto the table next to her, another memory flashing in front of him.

Fuck him. Fuck her.

 _Fuck_.

"Do you remember what happened in this library, Granger?" he asked, almost silently.

Hermione's eyes widen, her arm starting to hurt. Was he talking about…

"Do you remember? Remember what we talked about? What I said, what I did…" he continued "Where I touched you?"

Oh Merlin, no! Not again. No, they couldn't do this. They wouldn't talk about this.

Hermione could feel her cheeks heating up with the embarrassment of it all.

No, no, no. They couldn't talk about this. He had told her to forget about it. She had wanted to forget about it. They couldn't talk about this, they couldn't.

Malfoy returned his gaze to her once again, faintly noticing, in the dark, how her eyes had widened and how her cheeks had slightly darkened.

Oh yes, she remembered.

He took a peak at the wand touching his chest, still unused, wondering if she forgot she was still pointing it at him. He still had no idea why he was talking about this or why he was here. Fuck, he was so pathetic…

"I remember, Granger." He told her, looking straight into her eyes. "I remember what I said, what I did, where I touched you. I remember what you felt like. I remember the sound of your moan, the way your eyes clouded up, the way your face reddened."

Hermione wasn't sure she was hearing this at all. She wasn't sure she was still breathing.

Malfoy continued to advance on her and her arm felt like jelly. His chest pushed at her wand until it started to trace up his torso, his frame coming near her own.

"I also remember that afterwards I went up to look for Pansy. I was so hard it hurt, Granger. I went to look for Pansy and I shagged her… hard. I shagged her wishing you away, wishing she would make it all go away." He admitted, close to her body. He could feel her breath on his chin "I fucked her so I could try to forget you. I wanted to fucking forget all about you, Granger. But I didn't, I couldn't. I fucked her… And I kept wishing I was fucking you instead."

Hermione could feel her heart beating wildly against her chest, all his words flooding straight to hear head. She looked up at him, her wand squished between their bodies, his eyes staring right back into hers. She could smell the alcohol, pouring from his skin pores, from his nostrils, from his mouth. She could smell it. And she could smell him, all the smell that was Draco Malfoy. And she could feel him, all of him.

The things he was saying, she should feel disgusted by it. She should feel repulsed, revolted. The crudeness of his words, the meaning behind them… She should feel appalled, horrified.

She didn't.

Draco Malfoy was telling her how much he had wanted to shag her… and all it did was make her wet.

"The way you act, Granger. The way you look, the way you talk… I hate you, Granger. I fucking hate you. What you are, what you represent, what you do… I hate it all, Granger." His hand came to her hair, skimming it leisurely.

Anger started to rise up in her and she was about to retort, when one of his fingers came to silence her lips. And his head bowed to look at her, fully.

"I hate you, Granger, but that doesn't undermine the fact that I want you." He explained, his finger slowly tracing her bottom lip. "I want you so bad, it's a sin. You are a sin, Granger. A fucking, beautiful sin."

Hermione was almost sure she would have a panic attack any second now. Merlin, someone pinch her. Was this really happening? No, it couldn't. He was drunk. That was the explanation. He was drunk. But he hadn't been when he had touched her two years back… or when he had kissed her two weeks ago.

Fuck. Her head felt like exploding.

"Malfoy, you don't know what you are saying. You are drunk. Let's just… let's just call it a night, ok? Go back to your dorm." She tried to reason with him, tried to make him see that this wasn't right. This was a mistake. This shouldn't happen.

"I may be drunk, Granger, but I do know what I'm saying." He said, his finger still entranced by her bottom lip "I want you. I've wanted you ever since I could think of wanting you. I fucking want you. And I know you want me too, Granger."

"No, I don't." Hermione was quick to answer, trying as best as she could to make it sound like the truth. She could lie to Malfoy, even if she couldn't lie to herself.

"You are a bad liar, Granger." He smirked, the hand in her hair coming to rest at her waist.

Hermione felt his hand moving to her body and she wanted desperately to pry it off her, but she was struggling to find the will, to find the strength. Merlin, what was she doing? Was she this weak, this pathetic? She wasn't like this. This wasn't her. This was Malfoy. She hated him, she hated him with every fibre of her being. This was Malfoy, the cowardly boy that had tried to kill her two months before. This was fucking Malfoy! Just hex him, for Merlin's sake. Just be you, just be brave and hex him.

"No, I'm not. I don't want you, Malfoy. I fucking hate you." She seethed, trying to put some distance between them using her wand again. "Now get off me or I swear I'll use it, Malfoy."

"As I said before, Granger, hating me doesn't undermine the fact that you want me. I feel it, Granger. I felt it. That kiss… It takes two to tango." He hissed, the hand gripping at her waist. "So, for the third and final time… put the wand down."

The next thing she felt were his lips on hers, hard and hungry. Her wand almost broke with the force of his body claiming her personal space. The hand on her face went to grab her neck, pulling her head closer to his.

Hermione would like to think that she had struggled, that she had fought back. That, the moment his lips came in contact with hers, she had felt nauseated and sick. That she had felt angry and revolted. That she had done everything in her power to push him off her. She would like to think that her hand hadn't dropped her wand on the floor and that her arms hadn't circled around his neck, bringing him closer. She would like to think that she had felt disgusted when his tongue probed into her mouth, tasting of firewhisky and peppermint; that she hadn't moaned when the hand on her waist groped her butt. Hermione would like to think that she had done all those things… But she hadn't.

When her arms came around his neck, pulling him closer to her, Draco's doubts completely dissipated. She wanted him, just as badly, and that made his heart swell uncontrollably. And here he was, kissing Hermione Granger in the library and, once again, his body and mind went into overdrive, every sensor tingling.

His tongue danced around hers and she moaned so deliciously. His hand descended towards the back of her skirt and gripped the firm flesh beneath it. He felt her breath quicken. Her wand was already on the floor and now he could feel her warm breasts crushing against his chest. The alcohol in his system was making his head spin, but Draco knew that it wasn't the whisky alone that was making him feel like this... this intoxicated, electric.

He was pouring everything into the kiss. He sucked at her tongue and plucked at her lips. When one of her hands gripped the back of his head, fingers tugging at his hair, his throat vibrated with a moan of his own. He was getting frenetically aroused, his cock already swelling up, the need to rip her clothes off and fuck her on the table being almost too much to handle. He needed her, Merlin he needed her so bad.

With painful determination he tore his lips from hers. He needed to calm himself down or he would literally cum in his pants.

Hermione was gulping in air, her chest heaving and her eyes dazing in the dark. How could a kiss do so much? How could a simple kiss… a simple mimicking of mouths and tongues create so much fire, so much passion? This was unreal. She had never felt anything like this before, not with Viktor or anyone… This was too much.

Draco was gathering his breath as well, collecting his composure as the alcohol and stimulation still swirled around the veins of his body. He felt slightly light-headed, his train of thoughts rapidly getting off the tracks. He needed to calm down, he needed to clear his head. And he needed to touch her. Touch her everywhere, all of her. He never needed to touch someone so badly in his life.

With new determination he gently used his body weight to push her backwards, until her back hit the wall behind her. He should have felt surprised when she didn't object, but inwardly he already knew she wasn't going anywhere, not after another body-melting kiss. If she needed proof, proof that she was fucking him in the head completely, he was going to give it to her.

Hermione felt her back hit the wall and silently cursed herself for being in this position once again: Malfoy, her and a wall. She shouldn't be doing this. What would anyone say if they walked on them, right now? What would Malfoy's pals think? What would her friends think? Merlin, they were risking their lives and here she was, fraternizing with the enemy.

Malfoy was the enemy. He was the enemy. And what was this? Why was he doing this? He had been calling her a Mudblood not ten minutes ago and now he was kissing her? Was this some kind of a sick, twisted form of torture? Was this Malfoy trying to humiliate her like he had done two years ago? Trying to prove she was nothing but some sort of whore?

Well congratulations, Malfoy, it's working. I've never felt so revolted with myself. You are the enemy, you fucking tried to kill Dumbledore. You are one of Voldemort's pawns and the mark I saw on your arm proves it. People are dying, people need my help, they need me to protect them. Harry, Ron, oh Merlin! They would hate me if they saw me like this, against you and wanting nothing more than for you to kiss me again. And that sickens me. I'm appalled at my own perversion, at my own shameless behaviour. Because it is true, it's so true it hurts... I want you. I want you like I've never wanted anyone before. And why? Merlin, why?

With new-found courage, Hermione tried, once again, to ignore the wishes of her body and rationalize with her head:

"Ma-Ma-Malfoy, this has to stop. We don't – We don't do this. This… This isn't normal, natural. This isn't right." She stammered, her hands trying to push at his chest.

"Shhh, Granger… don't think. Don't say anything. Just- Just feel, ok? Just… let me… I-I… need to…"

He seemed to be struggling to control himself as well. Why, Malfoy? Why? Just tell me why, because I can't. I'm so tired, so fucking tired... Tired of all the beating and the curses, the death, the war... Tired of feeling worthless, of feeling like I'm scum, of feeling like I'm nothing, like I don't deserve this precious gift that is magic. Tired of missing Harry and Ron, of missing life before Hogwarts. I'm tired of trying to figure it out, trying to figure it all out. Why do you want me? Why are we doing this?

Why, why, why?

Malfoy's hand began tugging at her grey sweater, trying to pull it upwards. Hermione began to breathe fast again, fighting with her inner self whether she should let him do this. Should she? Merlin… she… she wanted him to. She wanted him to touch her, to devour all of her. She wanted him to.

She heard his words once again, resonating in her head:

 _Don't think, don't say anything. Just feel._

She was numb as she lifted her arms, allowing him to pull the sweater off her body, leaving her in her tie and shirt. Numb as her hair fell around her face again, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon faintly in the air. Hermione was numb and she just let herself forget. Forget to think, forget to talk. Just feel.

Malfoy's breathing was turning laboured and she noticed how his hands shook when he began to undue her tie. Was he nervous? Was it the firewhisky? Or was his need this demanding…

He quickly got rid of the damn red tie and calmly started to undue her shirt buttons, making sure that his fingertips brushed lightly against every inch of skin he uncovered. He looked back at her, her face scrunched up with doubt and uneasiness. She was, unconsciously, biting her lower lip, pulling at it with his teeth. She met his eyes, nervous and tense.

"Every-time I see you, Granger, I always wonder what is under your robes." He confessed, reaching for the last buttons of her shirt, all the while looking straight at her.

Hermione sucked in a breath, waiting for him to continue, her shirt almost completely open.

"Every-time, Granger… I would imagine what your breasts would look like, what the colour of your knickers would be… What you would taste like…" Malfoy finally popped open the last button and, with both hands, began opening her shirt, revealing a simple dark bra.

He didn't even look down, didn't even notice the size or shape and Hermione wondered what he was thinking. His words were having a deep effect on her, her thighs slightly rubbing together, the tension between her legs building up. She knew he would be pleased to find, when his hands enveloped themselves in her breasts, that her nipples were already hard and erect, anticipating his touch. And that was exactly what he found when he gently caressed both her heaving breasts in his hands. And he growled silently at the contact and she moaned at the feeling of having Draco Malfoy's hands caressing her breasts.

More. He needed more.

Without removing her shirt, he gently went to the straps on her shoulders and pulled them down her arms, as if he was peeling a fruit, delicately. His fingers touched every spot of skin they could sense and he gently reached behind her back, unhooking her bra.

Hermione was fighting a lost battle with herself. Was she really letting him do this, was she really –

Oh, Merlin! Malfoy's hands were on her now bare breasts and he was palming them slowly. His thumbs were skidding closer to her peaks and she suppressed a moan. Hermione closed her eyes and let her head fall against the wall behind her. Malfoy took the opportunity to attack her exposed neck, his tongue working its way from the base, to her ear. Just as he did that, his thumb and index finger found her hard peaks and began to gently roll them, pulling at them slightly.

Hermione moaned loudly. Her body was betraying her. Her body shamelessly wanted more. She wanted more.

 _Just feel._

"Shh… we have to be quiet." Malfoy's breath was hot on her neck.

Hermione bit her lip, suppressing another moan as his thumbs continued to caress her sensitive nipples.

"You are fucking beautiful, Hermione…" He whispered against her ear as his hands worked on her breasts, stretching her nipples, pulling them.

The way he had said her name. Her name coming from Draco Malfoy's voice… Fuck, she was getting extremely worked up. The pressure on the middle of her thighs was border lining on excruciating. Draco Malfoy shouldn't say her name like that, he shouldn't.

It wasn't right, it wasn't... Merlin, no.

Please. Damnit, Hermione, do something!

 _Just feel._

No.

No!

"No." She opened her eyes again, her mind trying to fight her traitorous body.

"What?" Draco suddenly looked up at her.

"No. Get off me, Malfoy, please..." Her hands started to pry his hands off her, off her delicate breasts.

Malfoy quickly grabbed both her wrists, stopping her movements. He roughly pinned them over her head with his left hand. Hermione kept struggling, the new position bringing her breasts upward and as she moved, her peaks were scrapping at his sweatshirt. She bit her lip again, her body aching for the touch.

"Stop denying this, Granger! I know the way you react around me. I know you like it when I touch you." He went for her neck again, slowly kissing and biting. "I can smell you…"

His right hand went to caress her breast again, rolling her nipple roughly. She inhaled sharply, her thighs rubbing together once again. After pinching it again and hearing her faint moan, confirming what he had said earlier, Draco's hand began to travel downwards, past her flat stomach and her skirt.

"No… Don't."

He kissed her again to silence her, his tongue seeking hers and she responded almost immediately. See Granger? This is how I know you want me just as bad. You may want to fight this battle, Granger but you'll just lose the war.

His hand reached under her skirt and started to push her stockings downwards. He went behind her and squeezed her bum in the process. He pulled at her stockings until they reached her knees. He left her skirt on.

"I'm going to touch you now, Granger." He told her, breaking their kiss, resting his forehead against hers.

Hermione trembled with anticipation and nerves. She closed her eyes again, not able to face him, tears almost threatening to form. Here she was, held by Draco Malfoy, her chest exposed, her nipples hard, stockings on her knees, knickers damp… How could she face the world when she was like this… and she was enjoying it?

A jolt went through her as she felt his fingers make contact with her knickers. It was the lightest of touches and still, she bit her lip again.

Draco felt the damp spot on her centre and muffled a growl. She was wet. She was deliciously wet and all for him. How he had longed to touch her again, after all these years. How he had longed to feel her pussy again, to hear her moan again.

His fingers secured the elastic as he brought her knickers down her legs to meet her stockings. Hermione gasped when she felt the cold air hitting her.

"Spread your legs for me, Granger." His alcohol breath reached her nostrils.

She resisted.

His hand came down and barely slapped her core. Hermione jumped slightly, a moan erupting from her throat. She opened her eyes ready to scowl him, only to see him almost smirking at her.

"Why, Granger… I didn't know you were into spanking." And he slapped gently again, this time letting his finger trail her slit. And she moaned again, her legs opening slightly, the need to have him touch her, overwhelming her.

"That's it… Open up for me."

And she did.

And Draco Malfoy finally touched Hermione Granger's bare pussy for the first time.

She was hot and slick and so wet. His index and ring finger slowly parted her folds, as his middle finger traced her up and down, applying a slight pressure when he felt her throbbing nub.

"You are so wet for me, Granger." He whispered in her ear. "Open more."

She did what he told her, opening her legs as far as the stockings and knickers on her knees would allow and felt Malfoy's finger slowly move at her entrance, entering her. A guttural moan abandoned her throat and Malfoy felt her tight pussy convulse greedily around his finger. He couldn't help but imagine his cock inside her and let out a moan of his own. He started to rub himself on her left thigh, the pressure on his cock being almost impossible.

"You are so tight, so hot, so wet…" He told her again, as his finger stretched inside her and began a torturous, steady rhythm: in, out, in out.

Hermione's hips started to move against his hand, trying to get his palm to brush over her clit while she felt her core sucking at his finger. Sensing her need Malfoy moved his hand so that his thumb would rub her little nub. The moment she felt him on her clit Hermione moaned loudly, not caring if anybody heard. She couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, her head rolling sideways on the wall behind her.

"You like it when I rub your clit, Granger?"

His thumb rubbed again and her hips trusted violently against his hand. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.

Draco's fingers were practically soaking on her juices, his wrist starting to ache from the position. She continued to rub herself against his fingers, the desire settled deep on her lower stomach.

"Do you want to come, my little Gryffindor Princess?" He whispered nastily, adding a second finger, pumping in and out of her.

Hermione didn't respond, as her hips kept humping his hand with the need to do exactly what he had said. And what he had called her just now… Merlin, it only turned her on more.

Malfoy looked at her and he growled proudly. Here she was, the Head Girl: breasts pushed into his shirt, nipples hard, legs open with her knickers and stockings dangling from her knees, her eyes closed, face flushed red, her teeth threatening to open her bottom lip, hair tousled… Merlin she was absolutely beautiful.

 _Sobeautiful sobeautiful_

 _Suchasin_

He halted his ministrations suddenly and Hermione groaned in frustration. She tried to get him to move, but he held his stance: fingers inside her, thumb pressuring her clit. She opened her eyes and he was looking right back at her, a serious expression on his face. His eyes were boring into hers and she could feel him continue to rub himself against her thigh.

The pressure of his fingers was too much. It was all too much. Hermione needed to come. She hadn't felt the need to come so badly in her life. She was almost crying in frustration. Merlin, Malfoy! Why aren't you fucking moving? Why aren't you, why…

"I want you to beg for it, Granger." His voice dropped almost an octave.

Her eyes widen up with sudden realization. Her mouth parted with an outraged gasp. He wanted her to…

"Beg me for it. I know how close you are. I can feel it. Question is… how badly do you want it?"

Malfoy was testing her. He wanted her to submit to him, to submit to the truth. I want you to admit it, Granger. Admit that you want me just as badly, admit that you like having my fingers in your pussy, that you like having my cock rubbing against your leg, that you like to be finger-fucked by Draco Malfoy in the library.

 _Admit it._

Hermione seemed to fight against it. This wasn't about who wanted who anymore. This was about control, it was about acknowledging something, it was about opening a door… a door that once opened, she didn't know if she could ever close. Did she really want this? Was the need to…

Merlin, I hate you Malfoy. I hate you so much.

Hermione closed her eyes again, swallowing the dryness in her throat, tears behind her lids. She close her eyes and let her head fall and she just…

"Please…" Merlin, was she really begging?

She felt him smirk against her neck. "Please what?"

"Please… let me come."

Hermione Granger had just opened a door she would never be able to close and all for an orgasm. Shame didn't even begin to describe this.

Malfoy suddenly removed his fingers from her and for a moment her heart sank. How could she have been so stupid? Of course, of course this was some sick game he was playing! He was toying with her. He just wanted to see how much he could really push her; how much he could really break her. Fucking Malfoy, fucking everything! Merlin, she was so stupid!

She was about to try to push him off her, when his hand was at her again, gathering her juices and bringing them upwards to her nub. He started to rub fast and ferociously and Hermione gasped loudly. She could feel her hips meeting his hand again, gravitating with him. She could hear the sounds of his fingers rubbing against her juiced up clit and she moaned loudly again, getting closer and closer.

 _Oh yes, finally!_

He tapped her clit once, twice. As he rubbed her, white spots, almost shaped like stars, started to form behind her closed lids. She was, she was about to…

 _Fireworks._

She came.

 _Hard._

Another low scream abandoned her throat, her hips pushing against his hand, her pussy convulsing. She continued to move against him, her orgasm going through her, the pleasure intensifying with each stroke. He continued to rub her through it and she thought she might pass out. Her heart raced, threatening to burst and her body shook. Wave after wave, she endlessly shuddered, her screams now lost somewhere in her lungs, her mouth still hanging open. Her legs turned into jelly and she slumped awkwardly into him. She started to tremble, her clit still sending shocks through her body. She closed her legs, trapping his hand against her core, wanting to prolong the feeling.

After for what seemed like too many minutes, Hermione came to her senses. Her head was against Malfoy's shoulder, her wrists were still in his left hand, up her head, and his right hand was currently trapped between her thighs.

She released him with a groan and looked up at him. She gasped when he saw him slowly bring his hand to his mouth and lick his fingers clean. He was tasting her. And she was already getting worked up again. She could feel him rubbing hard against her thigh and she wondered what he would do next; what would happen next.

Oh, Merlin. What is next?

"Granger…" He whispered, licking his finger clean and resting his face against her shoulder.

Hermione felt him shudder against her, she felt his pelvis hit her thigh again and felt him groan against the skin of her shoulder. Had he…?

Draco felt like ramming his head through a fucking wall.

He had just come in his fucking pants.

Great. Fucking great. Real smooth, Draco. First you have your way with the Head Girl and then you have to blow it all up by blowing yourself up against her thighs. And don't even try to excuse yourself with the fucking Firewhisky. You weren't that drunk.

Fucking Granger. Fuck her and her amazing tits and face and body and pussy and smell and taste and… Just fuck.

He didn't know how long they stood like that: his head against her shoulder, her bare breasts against his shirt. He could barely hear her breathing, the only indication that she was actually inhaling and exhaling being the rise and fall of her chest. He noticed that his hand was still gripping her wrists over her head and his arm was starting to ache. Why hadn't he let her go yet? Was he really that afraid she would push him away? Was he really afraid of the Head Girl? Damnit, he was fucked up.

Hermione wasn't sure she was still in the library, she wasn't sure she was still up against that damn wall, with her chest exposed and her knickers still on her knees. Draco Malfoy had just touched her, felt her – _tasted_ her. And she had let him. She had let him touch her, feel her and taste her. She had let him. She could argue all she wanted, she could make arguments for anyone that would catch them like this: he forced me, he bounded me to the wall, he took my wand. She could say that, she could. But deep down she knew. She knew she hadn't fought as hard as she should have. She could have used her wand, she could have pushed him away, she could have kneaded him in the fucking groin. She could have… but she didn't. She let him. She let him touch her…

And she wanted him to do it again.

Fuck. She was doomed. She was so fucking doomed. She couldn't be this messed up, she couldn't… Oh, Merlin.

He let go of her wrists suddenly, probably realizing he was hurting her. If he had been hurting her, she hadn't felt it. She wasn't sure she was even here… Draco Malfoy had just come in his fucking pants and it was the most erotic thing she had ever witnessed.

Merlin, she was fucked up.

She brought her wrists down, suspecting they would be bruised in the morning.

"Sorry…"

Hermione looked at Malfoy. Sorry? For what? For the bruises? Or for everything else?

He was avoiding her gaze. His apology just fled his mouth, automatic. He was coming to realize he didn't like to hurt her, at least, not anymore. He didn't enjoy it. Fuck. Had he ever?

Draco Malfoy hated these moments, the moments so many writers and philosophers and common folk described as _the moment after_. The awkward moment where you are forced to acknowledge everything around you, when your mind isn't clouded by anything. Fuck, if he could, he would choose to always be clouded, always have his mind filled with something: alcohol, passion, anger, anything. If he could, he would, because now he had to stand here and look at Hermione Granger's brown, inquisitorial and teary eyes.

Well don't look at me like that, Granger. I'm as fucked up as you are and I have the stain in my fucking trousers to prove it.

Without even thinking about it, he reached behind her and searched for her bra clasp, noticing how her eyes had widened. He just… He needed to fucking do something. He needed to cloud his fucking mind. So, he reached behind her and hooked her bra, helping her confine her breasts back. Her beautiful, so beautiful, _sofuckingbeautiful_

Ok, that's too much clouding. His now soft cock twitched. Fuck, how did she do this?

Draco then reached for her knickers and stockings.

"I can do it myself." He heard her say.

Well tough, Granger. I want to. Don't ask me why, but I need to.

Hermione was mortified, wishing she was anywhere but here at this point. When people talked to her about sex and their random rendezvous and whatnot, they always forgot to mention the awkward and embarrassing aftermath. She blushed even harder when Malfoy just pushed up her knickers past her bum. Taking her clothes off was one thing but dressing her? It just felt so much dirtier, like he was trying to hide the fact that it had happened; hide the fact that he just had his hand under her skirt moments ago. Was that what this was about? Was this Malfoy trying to erase the previous actions? And why did the thought of him regretting it, upset her? Why did she care what he felt? Why did she care at all?

"Do you want your sweater?"

Seriously, Malfoy? Why… What?

She simply nodded.

Draco reached down next to her to pick her sweater and wand in the process. He gave them to her and noticed that he still had the stain on his trousers.

Fuck. He couldn't believe he was asking her this but he had left his wand back at the dorm.

"Can you…?" He pointed to the stain.

Hermione seemed to turn eleven shades or red, realizing immediately what he was asking her to do. Really, Malfoy!? How can you be so, so… blasé about this? Doesn't it bother you? Doesn't it bother you that you just had your hands on me, that you just came in your pants because of me? Doesn't any of this bother you? Do you think this is normal? Do you think this is us? And what do I mean, us? There isn't us! Fuck!

She needed to get out of here.

With trembling hands, Hermione pointed her wand at the stain on his trousers – _Oh my God, what the hell am I doing, please let this be a nightmare, so embarrassed_ – and mumbled a quick _Scourgify_.

As soon as the stain disappeared, Hermione quickly pulled the sweater over her head, now very anxious to grab her things and leave. She had to leave. Now.

Draco didn't stop her when she pushed herself of the wall and went around him to gather her stuff quickly from the table beside him. He felt a bit disappointed at this, but he swallowed the feeling. What could he say anyway? Or better, what the fuck did he want?

He felt the need to say something. He had to say something. They couldn't keep doing this. This had to stop. He had to stop. So, yeah. He wanted her. Fine. He had come to terms with that. But acting on it… that was different. And it had happened two times already.

 _And you want it to happen again._

No. Fuck. No. It couldn't. She was… She was on the other side. She was the enemy. She was Granger. She was fucking Granger. Harry Saint Potter's Mudblood friend. She was… She was… tainted. She was wrong. This was wrong. All wrong.

 _So wrong, that she had to clean your fucking cum stain?_

"Fuck!"

Hermione had just slung her bag over her shoulder when she heard Malfoy's profanity. When he realized he had actually said that out loud, he looked back at her. He was seemingly uncomfortable and struggling with something. Well, welcome to the club Malfoy. I'm completely fucked up. I just want to go far, far away from here. So, please, don't say anything and just let me leave. Let's try and forget. Let's just forget. Isn't that what you said, a couple of years back, in this same library? That none of it ever happened? Let's do that. Let's forget.

"Granger."

A pause. Her breath halting.

"I… This…" Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She remained. Waiting.

He tried again.

"I mean… I was drunk. And…"

And? And what?

They stood there, looking at each other. Waiting. Trying to understand, trying to get somewhere. Something in the air. The air was thick. It was thick and heavy. And words. Words wanted to come out. What words? The need to talk, the need not to talk. Everything and nothing. And there they stood, looking at each other, during this moment. That moment, the aftermath moment.

Hermione needed to get out of here.

"I…"

Malfoy kept silent at the sound of her small voice.

She filled herself up with all the Gryffindor courage she could muster and said the only thing she could feel at the moment:

"I just want to go to my dorm. I need to finish my essay."

Pause. Thick air. Lungs working.

Tic-toc, tic-toc.

"Sure. Yeah, sure. Ok." He answered dumbly.

And with that she fled, like she had fled the first time, but Draco knew, he would never forget.

* * *

 **So? What did you think? Be honest with me. Did I smut it right? Haha kidding. But seriously, be honest, because I struggled a lot with this chapter.**

 **Anyway the next chapter is written and I'm currently working on the one after that one. Sorry again for the wait. And thank-you for sticking with this. All of you, the readers, the reviewers and the lurkers: thank-you.**

 **Have a wonderful day, night, afternoon, morning! :)**


	17. Chapter 17

I have been re-reading this story when I have the time and I'm finding some spelling and grammar mistakes along the way. I really should consider getting a beta. Anyway, after I write my thesis I'll probably correct them and upload the chapters again.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

 **Year 2003, June  
The Weasley's Home**

So, she couldn't sleep… again. It wasn't something new and it wasn't an unknown reality for her. She had struggled with insomnia before; long, sleepless nights of rolling around in the covers or simply sitting on the couch, looking at nowhere. When the nightmares weren't that bad she tried to indulge herself in a good, old book but normally the dreams would just be too much to handle and she couldn't concentrate on anything after that. So she would just wait it out, hoping she would doze off again or hoping morning would come soon. She was used to dealing with it and, normally, it wouldn't fret her much but due to the recent events, this time it was upsetting her.

She needed sleep. She hadn't been sleeping well for weeks and even though Ron had tried his best to tire her out tonight, her body and mind just wouldn't shut down. Her brain simply refused to cooperate with her. With all the recent events – the wedding, Malfoy, Death Eaters, everything – she had been working herself into overdrive. And if she didn't get her system to at least suspend or hibernate, she feared she might actually shut down for good.

Great. Computer references. Merlin, her brain hated her.

Hermione took a peak at her husband's form on the bed next to her. Ron was sleeping deeply, as usual. How did he manage that? Surely all this "Death Eaters are back!" crap must be getting to him, some way or another, right? It couldn't be just her. It just couldn't. They must all be feeling like this, right? Feeling hopeless, scared, confused… Feeling as if everything was about to swallow them whole. Feeling as if none of it ever ended; as if it had just been a slight pause on the darkness. They all must be thinking about this… right? They had to.

Groaning in frustration, Hermione hastily got up. It was still pretty dark outside and she didn't even bother to look at the alarm clock on her nightstand. She knew she still had some hours before the sun could even begin to think about showing its face. She soundlessly made her way into the living room, which was adjoined to the kitchen. The moonlight shone brightly into the big window. Hermione loved that window. It occupied most of the living room's far wall. It was tall and wooden and she enjoyed reading on the armchair next to it, with the sun snoozing on her feet. It was one of the things that made them – well, mostly her – rent this house in the first place.

When Hermione had imagined her life with Ron, back in the days when they were dating, she tried to picture they type of home they would live in. She knew that it would be a while before they could actually buy a house or, if they dared, to even build one, so renting became the number option. She had always wanted a space full of books, where the smell of worn out covers and pages would mingle with old wood and sandalwood; a place she could come to and relax and feel cosy and comfortable. So when she saw that living room window, she couldn't help but picture it surrounded by two fully stocked bookshelves and an old brown, leather armchair where she could sit comfortably, while getting lost in her reading. And even though the house wasn't big enough for her dream library, Hermione was content with having her own reading space. That window was hers, all hers.

Sighing, she decided to treat herself to a glass of cold water. It was an unusually hot night tonight. She was only wearing one of Ron's big, old Quidditch t-shirts – don't ask – and the need to just throw herself into a large, cool pool overwhelmed her. At least underwater she couldn't hear anything or anyone. Maybe she could just shut down her brain as well, for it was making such a huge racket, she was starting to regret even having one.

As her throat feasted itself on the clear liquid, Hermione couldn't help but wonder how many of her friends, classmates and colleagues, couldn't do the same anymore. How many of them had perished fighting for this world; how many had disappeared or vanished. How many had been murdered or how many had lost someone close to them… And even after all the death, the desperation, the hurt… They were at it again? Hadn't it had been enough? People deserved having a glass of water without the danger of being dead the day after. The Wizarding World deserved the peace. What could possibly be more important than that? How could power and greed be so destructive? She was just asking for a fucking glass of water!

The glass came a little too hard towards the counter. Look at you, Hermione. You don't even have any concrete proof yet and you are already freaking out! You don't even know what's out there and you already want out of it. What has happened to you? You used to be brave. You used to be a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake! You used to laugh in the face of danger! … Well, probably not laugh but you faced danger head on. All those years with Harry and Ron, all those battles, the war. It should have made you stronger. It should have made you –

There was a knock on the front door. A loud knock.

Hermione turned around to the sound of the noise. Someone was knocking at her door. Someone? Something?

It knocked again, louder.

Harry? Someone? Did something happen? No. Harry would Floo or he would call her. They were basically the only two known wizards in the Ministry to even own a telephone. Was it someone from the Ministry?

A knock again followed by the very distinct and sound of –

"Granger!"

– Malfoy's voice.

Her ears couldn't believe it. What the hell was he doing here?

Hermione rushed into action, making her way quickly towards her door. Had something happened? Was he in danger? Was there an attack?

She hurriedly unlocked it and opened it. There, in her doorway, stood the tall, kind of menacing figure of Draco Malfoy. He was wearing a black cloak around his shoulders, which failed to contrast with his already black attire. His hair was everywhere and he had a sombre expression on his face.

"Malfoy, what happened? What are you doing here?"

"Maybe you could let me in first, Granger. I'm not exactly hiding under an invisibility cloak." He replied.

"Right, sure." She said, feeling slightly dumb. She let him pass through the door, closing it afterwards.

Malfoy made his way to her living room. He looked around taking in some immediate details: the couch in front of him, the fireplace behind him with a small flat-screen TV on top of it, the armchair and the bookshelves on his right. Small, but cosy. He acknowledged how the room actually screamed Hermione, with all the tiny details that made her Granger, with the books and the TV. The only thing that was missing was her idiot husband and the perfect "house with a picket fence" picture would be complete.

"Where's the Weasel?" Draco couldn't help himself. Too many years of it, too many feelings of jealousy.

"Please Malfoy, don't call him that." Hermione warned, joining him the living room. "He's asleep. If you haven't noticed, it is not exactly 3 o'clock in the afternoon."

Before answering, Draco took the liberty of looking at her as much as the lack of light would provide. She had her arms crossed, in that mannerly like fashion of trying to patiently wait for something but failing. Her hair was tied up in a bun, with some loose curls framing her face. Her feet were bare, her legs too and she was only wearing some big, oversized t-shirt that hid all the curves from her body – the body he never forgot, but couldn't remember how it felt anymore.

Draco snickered. Weasley's shirt, no doubt.

"I didn't know you'd grow into Quidditch, Granger. You always saw it as frivolous, violent, over-rated sport. Who knew you'd finally give it a chance." He remarked.

Hermione thanked herself for not bothering to turn on the lights. If Malfoy could see her face now, he would clearly perceive that she was blushing. The nerve of him! He knew exactly she didn't care for Quidditch. And yes! She did find it a very violent, over-rated, frivolous activity – she refused to call it a sport. But Ron occasionally liked to see her wearing some of his shirts and pretend he was this renowned Keeper and she was a core fan and they would –

Hermione immediately stopped her train of thought. Merlin! Why was she even justifying herself? It was only normal for a wife to, sometimes, wear her husband's shirt!

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Yes. Ignoring him was always the best. "Did something happen?"

"Liking Quidditch and showing lack of manners? My, my! You truly are a Weasley now." He smirked.

"If you came into my home just to insult me, Malfoy, I suggest you leave before I really do show you where you can shove my manners."

"So, being called a Weasley is insulting to you?"

Hermione groaned in frustration. Merlin, how could he twist everything up?

"I mean it, Malfoy. One more and you are out." She warned, giving him the most disapproving look she could come up with.

"Ok, ok. I'm done." He laughed softly, nodding his head. "But, seriously, is that what you do for foreplay, because – "

The look she gave him must have been border lining on menacing, because he quickly shut it.

"Fine. But since we are on the topic… could I have something to drink?" He asked.

"Malfoy – "

"I'm going to explain, Granger. I just need a drink."

Hermione groaned again, unlinking her arms and walking towards the kitchen. Seriously, sometimes she wondered how could she possibly have involved herself with a prat like Malfoy. He was rude, arrogant, manipulative, childish, annoying, common-sense lacking, apparently un-educated… He was a prat. A very handsome, ignorant prat.

She looked through the kitchen cupboards to see if she could find something. A drink? What drink? Alcohol? She wasn't that much of a drinker and Ron wasn't exactly stacking the house up with liquor.

"What do you mean a drink? If you are talking about butterbeer or firewhisky you are out of luck." She told him, while opening the cupboards.

"I'm not in the need for alcohol, Granger. I think we both know what happens when I drink too much firewhisky."

Hermione just blushed harder, her back still turned to him. He had not just said that! Her brain couldn't help but reminisce that night at the library, images of drunk Malfoy popping before her eyes. Drunk Malfoy touching her and kissing her and licking his fingers and staining his –

Stop! Merlin, fucking stop Hermione.

She gathered herself and opened the fridge.

"Well, I got orange juice… We are currently out of tea."

"What kind of English citizen runs out of tea?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

Why yes, Malfoy, thank-you for making me feel bad about not having some hot, nice tea to give to you this late at night.

He let out a tired sigh. "Juice is fine."

Hermione grabbed a glass from the cupboard, opened the juice packet and poured him some. She made her way to him and gave him the drink, which he accepted with a small 'thanks'. He took a sip before asking he if could sit. Why yes, go ahead Malfoy. Have some juice, sit! We will just pretend you didn't barge into my house late at night and have yet to give me some form of explanation.

As he walked towards the armchair near the window – her spot, that was her spot! – she noticed he limped slightly. But before she could even ask, he sat himself and captured her gaze with his own.

"Sorry, my leg was killing me."

"What happened, Malfoy?" She asked taking a seat on the sofa next to him, her tone turning worried.

"Is this all it takes to mellow you down? Some shameless, freeloading demonstration of me in pain?"

And there was that smirk again.

Merlin, I loathe you, Malfoy.

"I'm not mellowed down, Malfoy!" Hermione argued, her lack of patience going into minus territory. "Seriously, if you don't just say it –"

"Calm down. When did you become this humourless housewife?" He took another sip of his juice, trying to hide his sneer.

Malfoy couldn't deny it. He just loved messing with her. Working up Granger had become one of his favourite hobbies, since he knew he had that ability. He felt some sort of sick pride knowing he still managed to push her buttons. He imagined how her face would be this delicious shade of red, how her nostrils would practically flare up with anger, how her pupils would dilate as her eyes bore holes onto his skull.

Awww, angry Hermione Granger was so much fun.

"I think about the time you became such a bothersome investigator. Now spill."

He chuckled lightly, before finishing his juice. He drank it to the last drop. Truth was, Draco had yet to figure out what he was doing here, exactly. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. After his last near death-experience in Little Hangleton, Draco felt this strange pull to see someone familiar… Someone he knew mattered.

Oh, fuck it. He wanted to see her, ok? He wanted to make sure she was ok, that she was safe. He wanted to see her breathing, healthy… He wanted to see it with his own two eyes.

He knew he was being ridiculous. This was Hermione Granger. She wouldn't be defeated that easily. And as much as he hated to admit it, she wasn't exactly alone either. She had her… husband.

He cringed just thinking it.

 _Husband._

Bloody hell.

She had the Weasel and Potty and an entire Ministry to protect her. Also, in all the years he was gone she had managed to do just fine, hadn't she? She certainly hadn't come banging on his door for help. She had moved on with her life. She left all that destruction and pain behind her. She left that life behind her. And now she was this amazing, famous, world renowned witch, living the dream and he was the one to tell her that there would be some dark times ahead. He was the one to pull her into a nightmare again.

He snorted. Aint life grand?

He should have gone to the Ministry first. Astoria made him promise he would march in there first thing in the morning and tell them what he saw; tell them what happened and lecture them on safety measures and precautions. Nothing would give him more pleasure than to tell those fucking wankers off, but he just had to make a detour to see Granger, didn't he? He just had to drown himself in the mud.

That particular thought made him wince. Sometimes, his brain still made these stupid, idiotic comparisons. He guessed it was from the years of crap Lucius had practically drilled into his head. As much as he had changed, as much as he had put all that load of shit behind him, some of these thoughts still popped up. And they hurt. They reminded him that he was probably nothing more than a fucking bastard and that was what he would always be. Fucking investigator indeed.

"I was attacked."

Hermione's eyes quickly filled up with concern, a curtain of worry rolling over her features.

"What? What happened? Attacked by whom? Are you hurt?" She questioned, rapidly giving him a once over from the couch.

"Blaise Zabini." Malfoy said fatly, trying to hide any indication of discomfort. Blaise was still a touchy subject, even for him.

"Where? What happened, Malfoy? Just spill it out!" Her voice started to sound almost desperate. Malfoy was actually a little awestruck by this. Seriously, Granger? You care for me that much? Or is that just your Gryffindor compassion trait kicking in? The need to see if everything was alright, the need to save everyone.

"In Little Hangleton. I was there doing some – " He seemed to think about it before continuing " – _investigator_ work and I saw him. Well, at first I didn't know it was him. He was there with two others. They were all hooded, so I don't know who they were. Long story short I made a rookie mistake and he found out I was spying and managed to hex me on the leg and – "

"What kind of hex? How did you know it was Blaise?" She interrupted.

"I don't know what hex it was. Just that fucking hurt. A lot." He explained "I knew it was Blaise because I recognized his voice. I overheard him talking to another and he sounded pretty pissed off that he didn't succeed in killing me off."

"Did he know it was you?"

"I don't know, but I don't think so. I don't think he saw me clearly. I ran pretty fast."

"What were you doing in Little Hangleton? I thought that place was secured by us." She was desperately trying to put all the pieces together.

"By us you mean those wankers at the Ministry?" He mocked "Yeah, sure. Real secure. Five years was all it took for them to forget all about the fucking war, wasn't it? I could tell for a fact it wasn't the first time Blaise was there and that place isn't fucking 'secure', as you put it."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She frowned.

"It means what it means, Granger. Blaise is up to something. Something is going to go down… and soon."

A look of dread crossed her features. Something was happening? When? What did that mean? And how come the Ministry was acting as if it were blind? Didn't they have people on his? Wasn't it the proper response to put someone on it, at all times? Little Hangleton wasn't exactly an unknown location. It was the fucking birth place for Voldemort, for fucks sake. How come Blaise could just wonder about it without being detected? Merlin, she was beginning to side with Malfoy on this: the Ministry was truly incompetent. It was only natural for Malfoy to accuse them of forgetting what happened. How could they forget? How could anyone forget? She couldn't. She didn't. She couldn't fucking sleep because of it!

"Have you…" Hermione tried to sooth the dryness that had formed in her throat "Have you told the Ministry yet? When was this?"

"A few hours ago, just after sunset." He replied, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands still holding the now empty glass. "I haven't told them yet. I'm going to that tomorrow morning. I seriously doubt they will do something about it and if they try, it will probably be some useless bullshit."

Hermione didn't say anything further, simply nodding and locking her eyes on the rug beneath her. It was real now, she couldn't pretend anymore. She couldn't pretend that it wasn't happening. She couldn't hide herself in a book, she couldn't hide herself in some old Quidditch shirt and she certainly couldn't hide herself in a three in the morning glass of water. It was real, just as real as Malfoy's limpy leg.

Malfoy was also lost in his thoughts, his gaze fixated on the glass in his hands. He needed to think about what he was going to say tomorrow and he needed to come up with the proper course of action. But something else was bothering him. Granger had said that she thought that place was secure and that could only mean two things: one, the Ministry was useless and evidently not doing its' job right or two, it went deeper than that. Maybe the Ministry was merely stating that that place was secure. Maybe it wasn't secured after all because someone didn't want it to be.

The second option scared Draco. It did. If there was anyone he would trust as the Minister of Magic, it was Shacklebolt and Potter, even if he would never admit to the latter. So, either Kingsley was completely oblivious to what was truly happening or he fucking knew it all. And if that was the case… Well, they were fucked and right back to where they started, all those years ago.

Fuck. He knew he shouldn't have gone to them. He shouldn't have! He probably fucked it all up, just by showing his fucking face, even if it had been to a handful of people. Not all of the Ministry knew of Draco's return or even what the fuck he was doing back. That is why he strictly asked Kingsley that the lesser people knew about this, the better. And now Shacklebolt could be working against him. Fuck.

"We can't tell them." He said suddenly.

"What?" Hermione lifted her gaze to face him.

"They can't know. I'm not going to tell them anything and neither are you."

She gasped "Are you insane? Of course we have to tell them! If there is people out there, capable of putting other people in danger, we have to deal with it."

"I'm not so sure the Ministry wants to deal with it, Granger. You said it yourself, you thought that fucker's hometown was secure and it turned out it isn't. Something doesn't add up."

"What? That's ridiculous, Malfoy!" She looked outraged "I can admit that, on occasion, we may struggle and that we aren't exactly known for always making the right decisions, but what you are saying is preposterous! I mean, this isn't a Pius Thicknesse case!"

"And how do you know that? What makes you so fucking sure, Granger?"

"Because I know, alright? Kinsley is my friend! And things are different now. Harry and Ron and Neville and I, we all know, alright? We work there every single day. This is a different Ministry than that from when you left, Malfoy."

Hermione didn't know who she was trying to reason with the most: Malfoy or herself. The thought of the Ministry having anything to do with any Death Eater activity was absurd. Times had changed. The Ministry had finally learned with the error of its' ways. They could handle another wizard war; they had to. Malfoy was wrong. He had to be. He was simply assuming a very improbable scenario, which he had the right to, but to act on it was ludicrous.

"Different? Now that you and the Musketeers work there, is that it?" Fuck, Granger, I'm sorry for dragging you into this, but I need to make you see that something isn't right. Please, just fucking work with me here.

He continued "What makes you so fucking sure, Granger? It has happened before. It could must certainly happen again. I'm not saying that my suspicions check out, I know it is a lot of speculating and –"

"Right! Speculations! And I'm telling you, right now, that I trust this Ministry. I built it, Malfoy. I know it. So keep speculating all you want but I'm warning them right now!"

Hermione got up from the couch, almost in an over dramatic fashion.

"Warn who? Weasel King and Potty?" He called after her, settling the glass on the coffee table.

"And Kingsley. If Blaise is preparing some kind of attack, we need to be prepared." She clarified, already moving to her floo stash on top of the fireplace.

"Granger, stop. You aren't thinking rationally. We don't know what Blaise is doing concretely." Malfoy stood by her side now.

"All the more to prepare for every possible outcome. You can't stop them alone and I can't either. We need help. So let's – hey, let go!"

Hermione's arm was currently being held fiercely by Malfoy's hand, the floo powder she had fisted in her fingers, escaping slightly onto the floor. He was looking down at her petite form, keeping her from moving.

"Granger, I said stop." He scowled, his eyes giving her warning signs.

"Let go of me, Malfoy." She met his gaze, defying him. She always defied him.

He was getting frustrated with this. She was acting on impulse, on fear. He knew she was afraid, afraid of everything that was happening. He knew this was Hermione trying to deal with the problem, before even having the cause, just so she wouldn't have to deal with the consequences. He knew that and he had to make her understand.

"Hermione" Her breath itched when he said her name "think about this for one second, one fucking second. You are about to go into Shacklebolt's home, dressed in nothing more but a fucking Quidditch shirt, in the middle of the night, to tell him that I got attacked by Blaise. Then he'll ask the whens and the hows and the whys and you'll have bloody speculations about gatherings in Little Hangleton, a town which you thought was secure. A town which you though the Ministry had covered and apparently it didn't and we don't know why that is and you want to pour all out there, even before we have any proof about it. How the fuck does that possibly help anything? So, fucking stop and get it together."

Just fucking stop, Granger. Stop worrying so much, that is my problem, not yours. I won't let anything happen. Just trust me. Fuck, I wish I could have said this instead.

Hermione looked up at Malfoy, his words sinking into her. The mere possibility of someone in the Ministry being involved in this… Merlin. How would they even… And do I look out of it Malfoy? Is that why you are looking at me like that? Like you have any kind of compassion to what I'm feeling? Do I look that desperate, that scared? Yes, I think I might. I was about to go to Kinsley's, wearing nothing but my husband's shirt, to warn him… about what? Meetings? We know that already. We know about the gatherings. What about Blaise? We now have confirmation he is involved. Yes, true, but that was also Malfoy's suspicion from the beginning. I would just be proving it.

She sighed. You are right Malfoy. If someone in the Ministry is working with the Death Eaters, we gave them too much info already.

"You are right…" She conceded quietly.

Malfoy's frown softened and he let go of her arm, the floo powder mostly on the floor now. Hermione was suddenly very self-conscious about her previous actions, even feeling a little foolish.

"So, what now?"

"Now we wait. Blaise isn't a fool. He caught someone spying, he'll automatically assume it's someone out to get them. If he'll trace it back to the Ministry or you guys, I don't know, but I'd be careful."

"So that's it? We just wait it out?" She argued, her gaze hot on Malfoy.

"I already told you, whatever it is, it is happening soon. Take extra precautions."

"Won't Blaise think it is you?"

"No." He answered quickly, adverting her gaze.

Hermione wasn't fooled. She knew when Malfoy was uncomfortable about a certain topic.

"He doesn't know you are back?"

"He doesn't know anything and I want to keep it that way. At the max, he might suspect, but I don't think he does."

The way he said it meant that was the end of the discussion. She nodded her head, not sure if she was capable of digging into Malfoy's full story just yet. Hell, she wasn't sure the wanted to. Malfoy coming back had been enough, she couldn't deal with the rest. But there was something bothering her about all this. Something she hadn't the courage to ask when she saw him standing there at her doorway.

"Malfoy, why are you telling me all of this? Why come to me?" She asked, her gaze falling on the empty glass he had left on the coffee table.

He didn't respond. Why the difficult questions, Granger? Don't you know already?

When a minute passed and she still didn't have an answer, Hermione decided it was best just to let the subject drop. She squared her shoulders and tried to focus on the more pressing matter. They were back. They were really back. Death Eaters were back in business and this meant playing house was over. She let her gaze fall into the armchair, the armchair Malfoy had been sitting earlier – her armchair – and noted that the time to read and enjoy the sun was gone. They could possibly be threading on another war here and she couldn't take any chances. She wouldn't.

"We have to tell Harry and Ron."

Malfoy groaned at that. Oh right, fucking Saint Potter and Carrot sidekick. The Golden Trio was back in action, with him as the fourth wheeler. He didn't argue with her though. He would never say it out loud or even admit it, but he preferred to be working with them. The Ministry? Not so much.

"I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

There. He said it. He said it but he was still coward enough not to meet her gaze when her big eyes landed on him, her mouth parted in surprise. What, Granger? Isn't it pretty fucking obvious, already? Why else would I risk coming here? Do you think I enjoy seeing you here, in that prick's shirt, watching you live your pretty fucking life? Your fucking perfect life, a life that doesn't include the former Prince of Slytherin. I may be a complete bastard, I may fucking hate myself sometimes, but I haven't turned masochistic… yet. And you still don't get it, don't you? You still can't see how I still very much care if you die; how it would destroy me. So at the mere possibility of you being in danger, I came. I came here, to your shitty home just to make sure you were ok, that you were still breathing. How can you not get that? But don't worry! If it bothers you so much that I came here, next time I'll send you a fucking note.

Draco groaned inwardly at his own ironic thought. A note. Fuck.

Hermione didn't know what to say, nor did she want to. Malfoy's words were doing things to her head, to her heart. So, he still cared about her. Good. Fine. It meant that she was still important to him, one way or another. It also meant that the note could have had more meaning than he actually led on. And what did that mean exactly? So what if Malfoy still had feelings for her? So what if he still worried about her? And so what if he had sent that stupid note? The same note that made her falter, that made her question if she truly wanted any of it. Well it wouldn't anymore. It couldn't.

She was with Ron. She was Ron's wife. She was happy with Ron. And Malfoy? She didn't even know Malfoy anymore! The Malfoy she knew was left at Hogwarts. She didn't know the Malfoy standing in front of her now. And Malfoy didn't know her as well. He was still thinking about that girl, the girl she fought so hard to leave behind. The girl that saw too much, felt too much… she wasn't that girl anymore. She didn't want to be that girl anymore. And why was she even thinking about this? She didn't have feelings for Malfoy! Yes, he was important to her. Yes, he would be forever in her memory, in her heart but that was it. Ron, Ron was the one she loved now. He was her husband; he was her everything. Not Malfoy, not anymore.

"I think you should go, Malfoy." She said, her arms circling her frame, trying to distance herself from him.

His shoulders slumped a little. What did he expect? A kiss? Right, keep fucking dreaming. At least a sign, a small sign that she still cared as well, that she hadn't forgotten. But what more of a sign could he get? All he had to do was check her fucking ring finger and there it was. What the fuck could be more obvious than that?

"You'll them, then?" He asked, getting back to business, his feet moving towards her front door.

"Yes, I'll tell them. We can meet up after." She answered, following him.

Malfoy stopped in front of her door and turned to her.

"You have to be careful, Granger. We still don't know what we are dealing with. And try not to use the Floo network. It could easily be traced."

"Is that why you came the usual, muggle way?"

"No. I'm just used to it by now." He joked slightly.

"I see." She gave him a small smile, grateful for the humour. "Thank-you, Malfoy."

He returned her smile. Merlin, she was so beautiful when she smiled. Even in the dark corridor he could trace all her delicate features. They way her cheeks would round up and the way her bottom lip would get stuck beneath her teeth. He remembered how she didn't smile much during that last year at Hogwarts and when she did, his heart would always swell up, especially if he was the one to make her smile. He always longed to see her do it.

Without thinking, Draco's hand went to cup her face, his thumb caressing her round cheek. Hermione's eyes widen in alarm and her smile vanished.

No, no. Don't Malfoy.

His hand was cold against her face and she was reminded of how cold Malfoy's hands really were. He rarely managed to heat them up. When he didn't remove it, even though she had stopped smiling, Hermione's heart begun to thump loudly in her ribcage. Malfoy was starting hard at her, his gaze burning and penetrating, his finger going up and down her cheek.

Hermione found herself leaning into his touch.

No, no. Stop it.

"Granger…"

No Malfoy, no using your husky voice. You know what that voice does to me. Just don't.

They continued to stare at each other, his hand still on her face, as she leant slightly into his touch. The silence was thick, the air became hotter and she knew it had nothing to do with it being a hot night. She needed to put a stop to this. She desperately needed to –

"Hermione?"

Ron's voice coming from the bedroom was all the incentive she needed. Hermione hastily gave a step back, Malfoy's hand falling down in the process.

"I'm going, Ron! Just came to get some water." She answered, turning to the small hallway.

A click from the front door made her look back.

Malfoy had left.

She stared at the door, unsure of anything that happened, questioning if it had been all a dream. Death Eaters were back, Blaise was in it, the Ministry wasn't as clean as she thought it to be, Malfoy still felt something towards her… Was it all a dream?

They way her cheek was tingling made her believe otherwise.

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Thank-you so much for reading and a shout-out to **PouleauPotter** for taking the time to review every single chapter and for giving me much needed incentive to update and continue this story!

I hope everyone of you is having a beautiful morning/afternoon/night!


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello! I'm currently trying to get myself a beta to help me revise and correct this story. In the meantime, I've written two more chapters and I'm currently working on chapter 20.**

 **This is a small chapter but it's meant to be that way.**

 **Hope you are all doing well. Thank-you for all the support and patience.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

 **Year 1994, August**

 **The Burrow**

She was having trouble believing it. The image kept rewinding and playing itself in her head, the terrifying skull hovering over her eyelids. The screams of people still filled her ears, the desperation and fear on the crowd's face. They had all joined together to celebrate and experience Quidditch and ended up fleeing for their lives, trying to desperately stay alive and breathing. Entire families with children having to go through the horror of having their lives threatened without ever doing anything to deserve it. Husbands and wives losing themselves in the confusion, the terror of not knowing if they would ever see each other again. The players, who were the big stars everyone wanted to see that night, reduced to escape next to people who admired them. And the Death Eaters, those hooded figures that revelled in chaos...

All that chaos, so much chaos.

And then that ugly mark, the mark that no one had seen for nearly thirteen years. The mark that reeked of death and destruction. That mark, the Dark Mark. She could still see it, filling the sky. She could still taste the ashes in her mouth, how her throat had dried up. Did that really happen? Hadn't it been just some nightmare? A simple bad dream? Did this mean… they were back? Voldemort was truly back. Was it true?

"I guess my scar was right. He's back, isn't he?"

Hermione didn't reply, too many questions in her head for her to focus on a new one.

The four of them, Harry, Ron, Ginny and herself, were hurdled up in Harry and Ron's room, each of them holding a mug of hot chocolate. They were at the peak of summer, but the night was cold. Hermione guessed hot chocolate had comforting abilities some other beverages lacked and they needed some serious cosiness right now. The rest of the Weasley household had already gone to sleep but after trying to do the same, Hermione went up to boy's room, finding Ginny already up there with four mugs, as if she already knew Hermione would be joining them soon enough.

"We still don't know that for sure, Harry." Ron said, currently sitting up on his bed, wrapped around a blanket.

"This wasn't a mere coincidence." Harry countered from the window ledge.

"Do you think he'll show up soon?" Ginny asked, as if she were talking about an old friend that was just visiting.

"Probably. He was close. I could… _feel_ him." The Boy-Who-Lived scrunched his eyes, touching his scar with his fingertips.

Hermione was still having trouble believing it. Voldemort was back. And the message he delivered was pretty clear: no one was safe, especially muggleborns… And Harry.

"You need to go back to Hogwarts as soon as possible, Harry. You are safe there." Hermione said from his bed.

"Right, I'm safe." He scoffed "And meanwhile other innocent people get hurt."

"That's not your fault." Ginny told him softly.

"Isn't it? I mean, all of this is because of me. If I had just – "

"Don't you dare finish that sentence Harry James Potter!" Hermione scowled, her petite finger pointing at him accusingly "You are not to blame yourself for this. And you don't get to say such atrocities. You-Know-Who was stopped back then because of you, because of your mother's sacrifice and we can stop him again."

"Yeah, mate. We can do it! I mean she's not called the brightest witch of our generation for nothing!" Ron chirped in.

"Besides, Dumbledore won't let anything like this happen again. Everyone knows Death Eaters are back now, so I bet he is working on it." Ginny smiled hopefully.

Harry released a conceding sigh, grateful for the optimism. Sometimes he wondered what he would ever do without them. He had discovered this whole new world four years ago, but more than the magic itself, he was glad for the people that had surrounded him. Ron, Hermione, Lupin, Sirius, Dumbledore, Ginny… All of them made him feel so damn lucky. If it weren't for them, all this gloom and darkness would have probably taken its toll on him. They were his anchor, his safe harbour. And today was a day he just wanted to sink away with the ship… Good thing he had them in his life.

After the Death Eater's attack and the riot during the Quidditch World Cup's final, they came back here to regroup and recuperate. Mr. Weasley suggested they stayed put for a few days, especially with Harry walking around with a bullseye on his head. Hogwarts was of course the safest of all options but Harry didn't want to leave his friends, especially when they were the other main targets.

He cringed, his gaze travelling through the window into the night sky. What those Death Eaters did to that Muggleborn couple was just the beginning. He hated to admit it but Draco Malfoy was right… to some extent. The crude words he had said to them after the muggles had been attacked, implying Hermione might be next were disturbingly right:

 _"Have it your own way, Potter... If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."_

Hermione was in danger, real danger. They all were, but… Voldemort despised Muggleborns just as much as he despised Harry. He blamed them for everything wrong in the world. What would he do with Harry Potter's best friend who happened to be Muggleborn? Merlin…

Coincidentally, the witch in his thoughts was having similar thoughts to his own. Hermione held on tight to her now cold hot-chocolate, replaying her brief encounter with Malfoy during the riot.

 _"Granger, they're after Muggles. Do you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around... they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."_

It shouldn't really surprise her how much of a vile person Draco Malfoy could be. He had proved it countless of times before but to hear him actually support this act of pure xenophobic violence blew her mind. Is this what the new Wizard generation consisted of? Was this what they were teaching other children, to hate others just because they weren't similar to them?

She had learned early on how much of a backwards society the wizarding one could be but to actually hear it and experience it from a fellow peer, even though he was a foul, evil bully with an even fouler, eviller man for a father… it was horrifically mind-blowing. So young and yet so twisted up in his head… Was this how Voldemort thought as well, when he was their age? Is Malfoy doomed like him? Having a laugh at the expense of another person's pain and shame? What has the world come to?

And what would be so funny about her knickers!? Hermione flushed furiously at the thought, taking a sip of her cold hot-chocolate. She had nice knickers… or so she liked to think.

"I just couldn't believe he would say something like that."

Hermione strained her ears, looking up from her mug.

"Oh come on, Gin! He's a bloody prick. Of course he will say that!" Ron argued.

"Who?" Hermione inquired, not picking up the conversation from the start.

"Malfoy… What he said, you know… About Muggleborns and you." Harry answered.

"Oh."

A tense silence enveloped them, the topic of last night's events still hard to talk about. Remembering it and talking about it made it all too real.

"You should've punched him again, Hermione."

Harry chuckled at Ron's statement and Hermione couldn't suppress a smile herself. Yeah, she should have. Punching Malfoy had been one of the highlights of her previous year. The sensation of feeling his nose cracking against her knuckles… she knew she shouldn't feel happy about using violence, but Malfoy had it coming. He bloody well deserved it!

"It's a shame… someone so handsome and yet so mean."

The Golden Trio all turned their heads towards the youngest Weasley, a look of dread on each of their faces.

"Gin!" Hermione gasped.

"Ginny, what the actual fuck?" Ron cursed incredulously.

"Ronald!" Hermione's harsh scowl came right after.

Harry was staring curiously at Ginny who was looking back at them, a defiant look on her face.

"What? Don't tell me you haven't thought the same, Hermione. I mean, come on, the bloke has a nice face!" Ginny seemed to be asking Hermione for some girl support.

The other two males in the room turned their stares towards the oldest witch, waiting her reply. Hermione felt herself turning pink.

"Uhm, well I… I… I haven't really thought about it, Gin." She stammered.

Had she? Hermione couldn't tell. She doesn't waste much of her time thinking about boys in general, much less Malfoy. Sure she had heard some of the girls in her dorm talk about how handsome he was and how his silver eyes would draw them in and how his smirk made him such a bad boy. She even caught one of the Patil sisters sending him a love letter once. But to actually acknowledge Draco Malfoy as a handsome fellow… Well…

Hermione would admit he did have a nice face… when it wasn't covered up with that annoying smirk – which was all the time. And he was tall, very tall. And his eyes, well, his eyes were… pretty?

"Liar! Every girl has. Come on, just admit it, he's handsome!" Ginny pressed on.

"Why are we even discussing this?" Ron interrupted, still obviously shocked at his sister's topic of choice. "What does it even matter?"

"It matters because you are all looking at me like I've grown three heads when I'm just stating the obvious truth."

"The obvious truth?" Ron continued "The obvious truth is that he's a bloody bastard and deserves every punch he can get!"

"Are you deaf, Ron? That is exactly what I said! I said he's stupid and mean, but that doesn't mean he's physical appearance isn't appealing."

"How in the name of Merlin can you even think of Malfoy as appealing!? Hermione, help me on this!"

Hermione could only stare at the siblings who were currently arguing over Malfoy's looks. She was shocked that Ginny would even think about Malfoy in that sense, but she could understand where she was coming from. Hermione, during the very rare occasions she would think about boys, had had indeed thought about Malfoy but, as she previously stated in her head, as much as Malfoy had the looks he ruined it all with his loathsome self. He could look pretty but his personality, his moral beliefs, his very being took the icing out of the cake immediately and, unfortunately, it seemed it would remain that way considering last night's statement.

"I really don't have an opinion on the matter…" Hermione didn't want to be dragged into this. She looked at Harry, hoping he would chirp in any-time soon but he was concentrated on looking out the window.

"Oh, grow a pair, Hermione!"

"Ginny!"

"I'm serious. You just don't want to upset my stupid brother is all."

"This conversation is ridiculous!

"See, Gin? Hermione thinks the same." Ron said proudly.

"What does Malfoy being handsome got to do with anything?" Hermione knew, as soon as she heard Ron's outraged gag that that had been the wrong thing to say.

"Ha-ha! So, you do admit he's good looking!" Ginny's satisfaction was evident in her smile.

"I – I … I didn't say that!" Hermione was blushing again.

"Yes, you did and you proved I'm not the only one thinking it."

"Hermione, you… I think I'm going to be sick." Ron muttered.

"At least you won't throw up slimes this time!" Ginny mocked, laughing harder at her brother's irritated stare.

"Ok, enough!" Hermione's scowl seemed to wake up the two siblings who immediately fell shut. "That is it, from both of you! This discussion is completely pointless and it interests no one. People got injured last night, alright? Things are getting serious and here we are discussing Malfoy, of all people!"

"If you people weren't so damn prudish this wouldn't even be a discussion." Ginny mumbled.

"Me? A prude? Yeah, right."

"Oh because you clearly know a lot about women, don't you, Ron?" His sister teased.

"Well… Ahem." Ron's ears were turning all shades of red as he cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the topic "I know some things, yeah."

"Enlighten me, I'm curious!"

"Will you both, please stop?" Hermione was trying to be the voice of reason. "Harry? A little help?"

The dark haired boy was still staring out the window, not engaging in the conversation. Hermione let out a soft sigh as she got up from the bed and came to stand beside her brooding friend. The two Weasleys kept going at each other, their voices in the background but Harry seemed completely out of focus. His gaze was elsewhere, as well as his mind. She knew he was still thinking about the game, about what happened at the game, what they saw… And she knew that he was still be blaming himself.

Hermione couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like to be Harry Potter. She wanted so badly to lighten his burden, to share it with him and she tried so hard to be there for him, for her boys, for Ginny, for everyone… But she was scared. She was so scared.

A tear was threatening to escape and she tried to suppress a sob. The almost imperceptible sound made Harry quickly turn to her.

"Hermione?"

The other two friends stopped bickering at the sound of Harry's concerned voice.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…" Hermione stuttered, hastily wiping the single tear on her left eye. She gave him a teary smile "I'm fine."

She immediately felt Ron at her side, awkwardly looking at her while putting a warm hand on the small of her back.

"Hey…" he said, not used to seeing his best-friend like this "Sorry. Didn't mean to make you upset."

"It's not… It wasn't you, Ron. Or you, Gin." She added to the red-head witch "It's just…"

"Everything." Harry finished, reaching for her hand and standing up. Harry was growing so much, both of her boys. They were getting to so tall.

"Yes, everything." She agreed, squeezing his hand back.

Merlin, all of them were getting so tall, so… grown up. This was it wasn't it? This was the last summer wasn't it? The last summer as "children". Everything was going to change now. How would the next summer be like?

"We will handle it, Hermione. You'll see." Ginny, the youngest and so, so brave.

Hermione smiled warmly at her friends, her best friends, the friends she never wanted to lose; the friends she couldn't live without. The friends whom she would never leave. Yes, her friends, her second family, her world.

"You have to promise me."

Harry gave her an inquisitive look "Promise you what?"

"That you'll never leave, ever. No matter the time and place, no matter the consequences and reasons. You have to promise me… You'll never leave me." Hermione's tone was serious.

"But, of course 'Mione! I mean, leaving you? What the hell are you on about?" Ron asked confused.

"Just promise me, Ron!" Hermione insisted, looking at the red-head still holding her back "Please, just promise."

"Sure, yeah, I promise."

Hermione nodded at him before turning to the other male in the room "Harry?"

"I promise, Hermione. I'll never leave you." He said softly.

"Gin?"

The other girl in the room gave her a smile that could brighten up an entire village "Who else is going to teach you anything about boys, Hermione?"

Both of them giggled, Hermione slightly embarrassed with it all as Ron and Harry rolled their eyes in fake annoyance.

Yes. Her friends, her whole world. They would stay with her, always. And it was always going to be like this, no matter the time and space, and consequences and reasons. The four of them, together, is where they belonged.

And Voldemort be damned if he was going to fucking mess with that!

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 **Thank-you for reading :)**

 **Hope you are having a wonderful day/evening/night wherever you are in the world!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Year 2003, July**

 **The Potter's Home**

"And after you've pre-heated the oven, you shove the tray in it for twenty-five minutes and you wait until it turns sort of crispy and golden. And voilà! Presto!"

Hermione smiled at the redhead's description "You are getting really good at this baking thing, aren't you?"

"I can't complain. Harry's turning into a far better cook than me. I have to surpass him at something." Ginny answered, gathering the plates from the table.

"What's up with men and cooking, lately? Ron's been surprising me as well. Who knew, right?"

"You mean he can finally boil an egg without it exploding? He's improved then!"

Both witches started laughing on their way to the kitchen, where they were met with the curious eyes of the subject of their conversation.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked while helping Harry fill the dishwasher.

"Oh, nothing! Just something about boiling eggs." His sister replied handing Harry the last dishes on the table.

"What could possibly be funny about that?" Harry asked confused.

"Leave it mate. Girly stuff."

Hermione frowned at her husband's reply "Are you saying that the subject of egg boiling is associated with solemnly with women, Ronald?"

Ron laughed nervously "What? No, of course not!"

Ginny was smirking evilly at her brother "What did you mean, then?"

Ron suddenly felt trapped under the hot gaze of the two witches in the kitchen. He glanced fearfully at Harry who was chuckling slightly, filling the dishwasher with soap before closing it.

"Don't bother looking at him, he won't help you." The youngest Weasley told the eldest.

Hermione crossed her arms looking at her husband intently, closing the distance between them "You are messing with the wrong gals, pal."

Ron itched back towards the kitchen counter "Hermione, I didn't say it like that, come on! You know me."

"Do we?" Ginny grabbed the rolling pin next to him.

The two witches were cornering him and Ron started to fear the worst. Ginny seemed like she was ready to beat him into a pulp with the rolling pin and Hermione might as well be murdering him with her cold stare.

"Harry, mate, do something! They are mental!"

"You'd do well not to say those things in a kitchen with two feminists. You get what you deserve." Harry told him, enjoying the show from the other side of the room.

"Apologize."

Ron swallowed dryly before giving his wife a quick "I'm sorry." He closed his eyes on reflex when he noticed the rolling pin coming straight for his head and yelped loudly, preparing for the pain.

Alas, it never came. Laughter ensued and Ron welcomed his sight to a room full of grinning faces.

Ginny was laughing the hardest "Oh, Ron, you dimwit!"

He glared at the two witches, feeling slightly embarrassed but relieved at the same time.

"Yeah, yeah. You guys are bloody hilarious."

Hermione reached for her husband, her hand running over his wild, red hair "You are too easy."

"I just hate seeing you upset is all." He replied sincerely.

She gave him quick peck on the cheek "Don't say things like that and I won't be upset."

Ginny stored the rolling pin back into the counter "It is good to know you respect us, big brother."

"Earning respect and being bullied are two different things." Ron whined, Hermione's hand still ruffling his hair.

"Oh poor you, you suffer so much!"

As fun as this was, Harry decided it was finally time to intervene. They had a pressing matter on their hands and they needed to get to it "That's enough, Ginny. He's had his share. Also, we have other things to discuss other than Ron's fear of women."

"I'm not afraid of women!" The redhead's ears were turning crimson, as his two friends made their way towards the door grinning.

"I know you are not. You are quite capable of handling your own, unless it's spiders." Hermione conceded, following Harry and Ginny out of the kitchen and into the living-room.

"And feminists." He mumbled going after his wife.

The four of them gathered on the living-room sofa. Hermione always liked coming to Harry and Ginny's home. It was warm and cosy, filled with weird contraptions and nick-knacks that reminded her of the Burrow. No doubt Ginny had taken up decoration skills after Mrs. Weasley. It was interesting to see the contrast between Harry's home and her own. Even though both of them had muggle apparel and electronics and appliances, Hermione's house resembled a more… normal house, if you could put that way. Harry's had so much magical presence, it was hard not to notice it. Simply put, if a muggle came to Hermione and Ron's home they wouldn't notice much out of the ordinary. But the Potter's… you couldn't miss the traditional enchanted clock or some kind of enchanted dust cloth dusting away.

Still, it was interesting to see how many things Ginny has gotten used to, regarding the muggle world. The dishwasher was her favourite, even though Hermione knew dishes could be washed with a flick of a wand. She knew Ginny took up after Arthur Weasley when it came to 'muggle inventions'; she was curious and impressed by them. And the television? Merlin, Ginny loved the telly! It was practically always on, just as it was now. Hermione wondered if that was at all healthy, remembering how her parents would bicker with her because of the television. "It dumbs people" they would say. Hermione couldn't really form a concrete opinion, since she was never a big fan of television. She preferred the moving pictures and portraits of the wizarding world.

It seemed Harry was pretty used to the telly being on all the time. He didn't make anything of it as they sat down on the sofa. Ron took the armchair near the door and Ginny and Harry joined Hermione on the couch. The amused and light mood they were in was quickly vanishing, knowing things were about to get serious. Hermione could feel her body constrict with anxiety. Here they were all together just like old times, ready to discuss what they were going to do concerning the return of Death Eaters.

After Malfoy had come by her house, Hermione didn't even try to go back to sleep. She had re-joined Ron in their bed, knowing perfectly well she would just lay awake until the sun rose again. She was just a mess of emotions at that point. Zabini was back, it seemed. Dread didn't even begin to describe what she felt about that certain peace of information. Hermione was terrified, truly. Who knew what the dark skinned wizard was capable of.

She looked around at her friends who were still joking about Ron's little tantrum and knew they didn't know everything there was to know about Blaise Zabini. Sure, Ginny knew he had come close to kill her and later Harry and Ron had heard about it too, but what about the rest? Things only she and Malfoy knew. Things only she and Malfoy had seen. Things none of them could even begin to imagine…

And Hermione knew she should tell them, she knew it. By not telling them, she was putting them in danger, she knew that. But how could she, without telling the whole story? How could she fill in the plot holes that were Draco Malfoy? To tell them about Blaise she had to tell them about Malfoy and Hermione just wasn't ready for that. She didn't think she would ever be, especially now that he was back in action.

Her heart flickered. He was back and he had been in her house last night. He had been there because he was concerned with her safety. He still cared. After all this time, he still cared. And that confused the hell out of her. And what was that moment before he left? Merlin, what was that? The look he gave her, how her name just rolled on the tip of his tongue, his cold touch… What in the world was all that? And the note, and the…

Hermione had never been so conflicted and disoriented her entire life. She had never felt so guilty and anguished. Because it became so clear to her yesterday, so perfectly clear, as she lay there beside her husband, how much Draco Malfoy still meant to her. It should have come as a shock to her, she should have felt enraged and restless… but she didn't. Because she knew, she had known, ever since the day she had received that stupid, useless note. Draco Malfoy still meant something to her. And what that something was… well, she didn't want to find it out. She was terrified of it, of that something. She didn't want to even consider that something, because that something had to be shut down. It had to stop. She had to stop and he had to stop. They had to stop.

Part of her felt cheated on, like life was messing with her. There were times where all she could think about was the unfairness of it all. How it was unfair that he had come back, how it was unfair that he still cared and that she still cared, how it was unfair that she was married and supposedly in love with someone else…

Merlin, what was she thinking! She wasn't SUPPOSEDLY in love with someone else, she WAS in love with someone else. She was in love with Ron, with her husband. She was in love. She was.

… Was she?

Hermione closed her eyes, her hands gripping her jeans. How could she even doubt this? How could she? She was a newlywed, with a bright promising future ahead of her. She had married one of her best friends, the sweetest person in the world even with all his quirks and habits. She had been so happy, so, so happy. Happy with Ron and Harry and Ginny and Neville. And she had healed from the war. She had done her healing; they all had done it. And now, when she was ready to finally start over, to finally move on and start fresh… Now when she was prepared for it all... she certainly had not prepared for this: Death Eaters, Zabini's and betrayals and spies in the Ministry and… Malfoy.

Fucking, Malfoy.

"Hermione? Is everything alright?"

She opened her eyes locking on Ron's worried gaze, giving him a small smile "Yes, sorry. I was just thinking about something."

He smiled apprehensively back at her. Oh, Ron! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry… I just, I'm just… Merlin, how am I even capable of thinking like this? How can I even second doubt myself on this? This is so wrong, so unfair, so, so, so wrong, so –

"And he is meeting us here?" Ron asked his dark-haired friend.

"I think he is, right? Hermione, is he coming here?"

She cleared her dry throat. She could almost swear she felt a lump in her gullet.

"Yes. Malfoy is coming here to discuss it all with us."

Harry felt satisfied with her answer and didn't press any further. Hermione was glad for that. After a restless night, consequence of a certain blonde haired wizard, Hermione decided the best course of action was to just come clean about his visit. They were dealing with far more dangerous things than her preoccupations with her previous teenage love affair and she had to deal with that fact sooner rather than later. Of course Ron wasn't keen on the idea of Draco Malfoy stopping for a late night chat with his wife and he certainly didn't understand why she didn't wake him up.

Hermione tried to explain and excuse herself the best she could – Merlin, she felt like such a liar – arguing that Malfoy came to her because he had to go to someone.

"And why not Kinglsey? Malfoy was the one that practically begged to talk to him in the first place. We are nothing but scum to that arsehole."

And Ron had a point indeed. But, as Hermione explained, if Malfoy's suspicions were anything but correct, then they had to count on themselves. It pained her to think that way, seeing as Shacklebolt was their friend and also the best Minister she ever had the pleasure to work with, but they have been on this path way too many times. And maybe Malfoy saw it that way as well.

"So? Go bother Harry, then."

Really Ron? Malfoy going to Harry for help? Please accept the fact that out of all of us, Harry and you would be the last people he would resort to.

"So, what? He is ok with you now? He doesn't think you are a worthless muggleborn?"

He did, at one point, he did. It isn't like that anymore. Yes, he is still a loathsome prat and yes we still can't stand each other, but we are not children anymore. He fought with us, by our side, against Voldemort. You may not like him, you may not agree with him but we are old enough to put our differences aside and show some respect.

 _Don't you just feel like a fucking hypocrite saying all of this crap to your husband?_

Hermione shrank a little more into the sofa. She couldn't help but imagine Draco's voice saying that to her. It was easier to hear from someone else, wasn't it? It made the guilt a bit more manageable. She wasn't lying though, when she had explained those things to Ron. She truly believed Draco should be treated with respect and that it should be mutual. Things were about to get messy and they needed all the help they could get.

 _Even if that help is coming from the one person you should stay away from?_

She cursed inwardly. Fuck you Draco Malfoy.

As if on cue there was a knock at the door. Hermione immediately stiffen, nervous about Malfoy being in the same room as all of them. What if she unwantedly implied something? What if there was a longer stare, a stupid joke? What if he just ignored her all together? Would they notice? Would they notice it?

Ok, breathe. Remain calm. They don't know, they will never know and there are more important things to talk about right now.

Harry returned to the living-room – when had he gotten up? – and following him came the still hobbling body of Draco Malfoy. He looked so out of place, so uncharacteristically uncomfortable. He was clad in black robes and his limp was still noticeable. His court nod was his greeting gesture as he considered where to sit.

"You can sit on that chair."

Draco seemed almost thank-full for Hermione's suggestion. Truth was, he had been dreading this meeting. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the precious Golden Trio and Weaselette, especially with a certain brown-haired witch. After his pitiable demonstration of just how much of a wanker he truthfully was, Granger was the very last person he wanted to see. He was surprised to have received her calling, more surprised that she even remembered their little secret way of communicating with each other when in trouble. It was something Draco hadn't been expecting.

Hermione exhaled in relief when she saw him take a seat with no fuss. Calling him here had been almost a desperate move on her part. It was also showing her friends almost too much, the confusion on their faces evident as to how she had reached Malfoy.

"The coins from the DA, of course. Some of the former student's kept them. Don't tell me you've lost yours?"

Liar. Liar. Liar.

"Hermione has already told us what you told her Malfoy, but I want to hear it from you directly. Do you really have reason to suspect someone in the Ministry?" Harry was right down to business. Hermione decided to cut the crap and pay attention to the urgent matter at end.

"If Granger told you, why do you need to hear it again? I'm here because we need to decide what we are going to do, Potter. I'm not here to repeat myself or tell you a fucking bedtime story."

Harry wasn't fazed by Malfoy's response "I'm not asking for a story, Malfoy. I'm just trying to understand. It's a serious accusation don't you think?"

And Draco wasn't intimidated "Who here is accusing anyone? I have the right to my suspicions and since I'm the one doing the dirty work I suggest you keep your opinions on the matter to yourself."

"You are doing the dirty work? What, a broken leg and you are suddenly the hero?" Ron mocked from his seat.

"It isn't broken, Weasley, but thanks for the concern. And yes, dirty work. How many of you idiots knew that something was going down on that monster's home town?" Malfoy asked no one in particular.

"So he's a monster now? Didn't seem like it when you were being his lap dog."

"Ron, please." Hermione scowled "We are not here for this."

"Even when I was his lap dog Weasley, I was still good for something. What are you good for? I bet you can't even man up in the sack."

Ron's wand was out before Hermione had the time to react. She hastily got up about the same time Draco drew his own wand. Harry and Ginny drew their own and suddenly she was surrounded by a group of four wizards, pointing their wands at each other. The tension in the air was palpable and Hermione cursed herself for being so bloody stupid as to think they could all get along.

Merlin, was this how it was going to be all the time?

"For Merlin's sake, can't you act like fucking adults?" Hermione shouted, the anger reaching her voice.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I can't bloody sit here and listen to this ferret." Ron seethed through his teeth, wand still pointed straight at Malfoy's head.

Draco gave him the infamous Malfoy smirk "You were the one that wanted to join the conversation, Weasel. If I annoy you so much, why don't you go take a stroll, get some air? You'd be doing us all a favour. I can smell your shit all the way from over here."

Hermione wanted to kill Malfoy at that moment. He knew perfectly well not to push Ron's buttons and yet he still did it!

 _Of course I'll do it. I fucking hate the guy._

Get out of my fucking head, Malfoy!

"My shit!?" Ron asked incredulously, a dry laughter following his question "You are the one coming to us for help, Malfoy. You are the one standing in the lion's den and if you are not careful, you might just get fucking maimed."

"Not before I throw you first into the snake pit!" Malfoy roared, his wand shaking.

"THAT'S ENOUGH, BOTH OF YOU!" Hermione stomped her foot hard into the floor.

Harry took the opportunity to cast a quick "Expelliarmus!" and both of the wizard's wands went flying into the hallway. Ron just gave him a bewildered look and Malfoy fumed in annoyance.

"If you can't act like fucking grownups, than this meeting is a fucking waste of my time!" Hermione continued, looking disapprovingly at everyone.

"Hermione, you have to understand that – "

"That what, Harry? That Death Eaters are back? That fucking Blaise Zabini is trying to run the show?" Draco flinched at that "That people are in danger? That I don't want more people to die? That I can't sleep at night, thinking about all of this? Tell me what there is to understand because I sure as hell would like to know!"

Harry silently looked down at the floor. Hermione's question was met by silence.

She continued "Please, tell me, Harry, what is there to understand? Do you have any idea of how lucky we are, to just be here? To be alive right now?"

He frowned at that "Of course I do, Hermione. I lived seven years not knowing if I would make it to the next. I feel blessed every day."

"And that's not the point, Hermione. How can you even stand to be in the same room as this fucker, the same fucker who tried to kill Dumbledore, who – "

"I'm going to stop you right there, Ronald! I never said you had to forgive, Malfoy. I understand if you don't. All I said was to just put your differences aside and focus on what is really important. And right now the wizarding world's safety is more important than this pathetic demonstration of testosterone!"

"No need to defend me, Granger."

Hermione turned her gaze towards the former prince of Slytherin "I'm not defending you, Malfoy. You are also to blame in all of this. You don't have the right to come into my friend's house and rile up my husband, not when we are all making an effort to help you and to –"

"Oh save the me condescending act, Granger! Do I have to put up with this for the rest of my fucking life? For how long do I have to live for you people to give me a fucking break?"

"A break? You don't deserve a break! Azkaban, that is what you fucking deserve you wanker!"

"I'm warning you Weasely, one more out of you and I'll show you just exactly how much I deserve to be in Azkaban." Malfoy took a step further in Ron's direction, his teeth baring.

"Is that a threat? I would love to see you fucking try." Ron advanced as well, the two of them merely inches from each other, nostrils flaring, fists clenching and unclenching.

Hermione was getting desperate. She quickly looked over at Harry who made his way towards the other two males "Guys, come on. This is fucking pointless!"

Thank-you, Harry. At least you seem to get it.

Hermione then looked over at Ginny, also hoping the redhead would help her but her brow furrowed when she noticed the younger witch wasn't even paying attention. Her gaze was glued to the television, her mouth wide open, her eyes almost watering. What the?

Hermione looked over at the TV, trying to focus on the moving pictures. Apparently there was something on the news. Something big, something horrible. She couldn't understand with all the bickering that was going on around her, Ron and Malfoy were still going at each other while Harry was trying to get between them. She hurriedly searched for the remote, finding it on fireplace. Rapidly moving, she got to it and upped the volume of the television.

"… and while the police still have no explanation to this shocking crime, the Brighton community keeps asking for an answer."

A crime? Someone was murdered?

The news caster was now talking to a reporter on the scene. The reporter was near a house, probably where the crime had taken place. Hermione kept watching intently, the raising of the volume pulling the males out of their quarrel and they were now watching as well.

"Yes, I'm still here and the forensics team is still inside. We don't have much information to go on yet. All we know was that the victim was aged 10, a little girl and that she was probably murdered inside her own house. The only indication of this fact being the gruesome writing on the wall with what experts believe to be blood, they aren't sure if it's the victim's, of a strange, macabre message: _die, mudblood, die._ "

Hermione didn't acknowledge the moment her breath had itched and stopped. She didn't even felt the first tear rolling down her cheek or the way her hands clenched the remote close to her aching chest. She didn't acknowledge anything. She was too busy shattering.

She felt herself shatter, the pain in her heart burning her insides. And suddenly she was back. She was back at that place, she was back at that time. She was no longer in the present, she went back. Back to the pain, to the hurt, to the dark. She was back in the dark, drowning in the darkness.

It was like they hadn't moved forward at all. It was like she was back there again; back at that place, back to that feeling. It was like… it was hunting them. It was hunting them again. He was hunting them again. Even in death, he hunted them. His ghost lingered; his evil had remained. He wanted them to join him in death. He wanted them to die all over again. He wanted her to die; her and everyone she cared about.

Hermione tried to take a breath and noticed that she couldn't. Her lungs wouldn't work; her heart refused to pump blood into her system – her blood, her muddied blood. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move. She was trapped. She was trapped in all this death. She was drowning and he wouldn't let her come to the surface. He wanted to kill her. Voldemort wanted to kill her.

 _Kill me. Please kill me. Please!_

"Hermione…"

Something cold. Something cold was touching her face.

Breathe. Try to breathe. Why can't I breathe?

Her eyes couldn't see. Her heart was trying so desperately to wake her body, to wake her up but it wasn't enough. She couldn't breathe. She was back at that place. She was back at that tower. She was back at that feeling. She was back to the nightmare, to death. Death was pulling at her, he was pulling at her.

 _Die you mudblood bitch!_

.Makeitstop.

"Hermione!"

Again something cold on her cheeks. Something cold on her forehead. Something cold…

"Hermione… Come back to me, Hermione…"

Who? Come back to where? Merlin, breathe! Why can't you fucking breathe?

"Hermione… Come back to me. I've got you."

 _I've got you._

Draco.

Draco?

"I've got you, Hermione. I won't let go."

 _Draco._

Gasp. Big Gasp.

And air. Precious Air.

Her lungs filling with air.

 _Gasp._

 _Air._

She was breathing again.

Pant.

Pant.

She was breathing. Desperately.

"That's it. Breathe. Come back to me. I've got you."

He's got her. Draco's got her. He was there. He was there again.

He got her. He always got her.

 _Draco._

Her eyes were focusing now. They were blinking and filling up with light. And she looked. She could see again and she wasn't at that place anymore. She was back home. She was back to herself. She was back to Draco.

Draco.

He was there, holding her face in his cold hands, his forehead resting against hers and his eyes… His eyes were looking back at hers.

He was there. Draco.

She was safe. She was safe again.

"Breathe…"

He was whispering. His voice was soothing; it was warm. His breath was fresh and minty against her nose; his thumbs drawing circles on her cheeks. And he was looking at her with those eyes, those beautiful, grey eyes. He was looking at her, at her soul. His eyes were so full of concern, so full of heat and care and… and…

 _And…_

"Is she ok? Is she ok!?"

Another voice. A frenetic voice, desperate and fearful. Hermione needed to respond to that voice; she needed the voice to shut up.

"I'm fine Gin…" Her throat felt raw, dry.

"Breathe, ok?"

 _Draco._

She was breathing again. Her chest was swelling.

And Draco was there. He was there just as he had been all those years ago. He was there to save her. He was there to bring her back from the darkness; so much darkness…

Then there was another voice, a raising voice.

"What the fuck did you do to her you fucking bastard!?"

A shove.

Hermione gasped as her husband shoved Draco forcefully away from her. The younger Malfoy didn't have time to react as his back collided with the TV screen.

 _Don't!_ Hermione wanted to shout but her voice was still garbled up in her throat.

Ron took hold of her "Hermione? Hermione can you hear me? Hermione are you hurt? Are you ok?"

"She's fine Weasley." Malfoy explained standing straight.

"I didn't fucking ask you! Shut the fuck up!" Ron was shouting now, his hands searching his wife's face and shoulders, his eyes locked on her form.

Harry went to stand protectively between the former Slytherin Prince and Hermione "What did you do, Malfoy?"

"I didn't do anything, Potter." Malfoy seethed, his gaze burning "She was having a panic attack and she needed to calm down."

"A panic attack? Hermione doesn't have panic attacks!"

Please, Ron. Please calm down. Please just let me breathe, just let me…

"She used to, back at Hogwarts. Look, Weasley, she just needs – " Malfoy began to explain but was cut short.

"I thought I told you to shut the fuck up!" Ron turned to Malfoy now, his blood boiling, his face red with anger.

"Ron, maybe she just needs to sit down and drink a glass of cold water ok?" Ginny intervened "I'll go get it, just sit her down on the sofa."

"Hermione, can you hear me? Say something, Hermione!" Ron asked his wife desperately.

Hermione cleared her throat again, her breathing had returned to normal even though she was still feeling slightly lightheaded "Ron, I'm fine… I just need to sit down a minute, ok? Can you help me sit down?"

Relief washed over all the occupants in the room. Ron quickly nodded aiding her and leading her towards the couch. Ginny hurried to the kitchen and Harry still faced Malfoy, pinning him in place with his stare.

Hermione let Ron sit her down on the sofa. He took a seat next to her and held her hand, brushing some strands of hair from her face.

Malfoy watched as the scene unfolded, trying to hide the jealousy and hurt from his features. He watched as Ron Weasely softly caressed her hand and hair, whispering words of comfort.

It should be him doing that. It was him that used to do that when she crumbled, when she was so exhausted from it all she couldn't even take a breath. When she had wanted nothing more than to succumb to everything, to just let go and not fight anymore. It was him that made her breathe again, when she had seen death and had wished for it to take her. Draco had been there. He had been there with her and he had been the one to hold her like that and protect her. Not fucking Weasley.

Ginny rushed back into the living-room, a glass of water in her hand. She handed it to Hermione and waited anxiously as the older witch gulped the glass dry. She mumbled a small thanks and gave the now empty glass back to her friend.

"Hermione, are you ok?" Harry asked worriedly.

She exhaled softly before reply "Yes, Harry. I'm fine. Thank-you."

"What happened? Did he hurt you?" Ron was massaging her back, trying to sooth her.

"For fuck's sake, I didn't do –"

"If you know what's good for you, Malfoy, you will fucking stay quiet." Harry warned again.

Malfoy huffed in annoyance, silently wondering how was it possible for people to be so dumb.

"Please, stop." Hermione put her hands to her temple, the dizziness still lingering.

" 'Mione, we just want to understand what happened." Ginny conceded.

Hermione's gaze travelled to the TV "That girl… That girl on the television. She was a muggleborn. She was a muggleborn… And she was killed."

Ron took her hand again "Hermione…"

"I need you to do something for me." She told them.

Harry was the first to reply "Sure, whatever you need, Hermione. What is it?"

"I need you to go down there, now. I need you to find out who did this." She said, her expression serious "Because this was it, this was the beginning, all over again. This was the message. They are back. Voldemort's back."

"You-Know-Who is dead 'Mione…" Ginny said softly.

"We don't know that! We don't know anything anymore! He was dead before, right? He was dead after Harry…" Hermione took a deep breath, trying once again to calm herself down "He was dead. And then he wasn't. We don't know if he is still dead again."

"Hermione, I killed him. I saw it, I felt it. And I haven't felt anything since – "

Hermione cut him off "How many times have we saw something, felt something and then found out not to be true? Have you forgotten the world we are in, Harry? Have you forgotten what magic can actually do? We won't ever know something for certain, ever!"

Harry sighed in defeat "How serious are you about this?"

The brown-haired witch answered surely "Ten. Serious to the amount of ten. A girl just died… a little girl."

Hermione felt Ron squeeze her hand "We'll find the ones who did this, Hermione. And we will –"

"Right then, enough of this bullshit. You heard her, let's move it. We need to get there before the body is moved elsewhere." Malfoy's tone was demanding.

"We?" Ron's arrogant voice asked "We aren't doing anything. Harry and I are the fucking Aurors here. Don't fucking treat us like we are friends or something. People like you are the reason this shit is happening in the first place!"

"I'm not your friend, Weasley nor I ever want to be. I just want to find out if we are on the verge of another fucking war!"

"Are you sure you are on the right side on this one?" Ron cruelly remarked.

"You are really testing my patience." Malfoy growled.

Hermione hastily got up from the sofa "Ok that's enough, both of you! A girl just died, please show some respect and do your fucking jobs." She saw Ron about to complain again "I said enough! Malfoy is with us, Ron, whether you like it or not. He's proven himself more than once, so fucking grow up and deal with it."

The redhead looked back at his wife with a shocked expression on his face. Hermione felt a pang in her heart as she noticed the hurt in his eyes. I'm sorry, Ron. I really am. A girl was just murdered. I really need to… Dammit why can't I be stronger than this? Why can't be fucking stronger, like you, like Harry… like Malfoy?

"Fucking move it, then. We've wasted enough time already." Malfoy went to the hallway to recover his lost wand.

"Hermione, will you be alright?" Harry's voice was full of concern as he fastened his cloak.

Hermione took another deep breath as she cursed herself for still feeling a little bit wobbly "Yes, I will. Just find out who did this. Keep me posted."

The dark-haired wizard gave her a small smile "We will. Right, let's move."

As Hermione sat back on the couch, her head still drowning in swirly motions, she noticed Malfoy staring at her. She stared back at him, trying to silently tell him that she was fine and that she was thankful for him being here.

"Get fucking moving, Malfoy." Ron's cold voice was right behind her. With a hateful glare, Malfoy followed Harry out of the house. Ron turned to his sister "Take care of her, Gin. Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid." And with that, the older ginger in the room stepped out.

Hermione cringed when she heard the door slam shut. She knew Ron was angry, very, very angry. She couldn't blame him, in fact, deep down she knew she deserved it. The situation was rapidly getting out of her control and the longer she tried to hide that fact, the more probable it was for someone to get hurt. And it had already begun. This was just the beginning.

"Hermione…"

"Hmm?" Hermione turned to the youngest redhead sitting next to her on the sofa, anticipating what came next. She knew what Ginny was going to ask and she couldn't escape it, not anymore.

"Since when do you have these sorts of things? These, these…"

"Panic attacks." Hermione finished for her "I mean, I suppose that is what you call them."

"Ok, panic attacks. Since when?"

Hermione sighed tiredly "Hogwarts… I mean, I haven't had one in a while. Nowadays, I just get anxious. But with everything that is going on, I just… It all came rushing back."

"You never told me." Hermione knew Ginny wasn't accusing her of anything. If anything, her ginger friended sounded hurt.

"I couldn't, Gin. I was Head Girl. I had to deal with it, it was my responsibility. I couldn't let other students find out."

Ginny frowned at that "But that is just it, Hermione! I wasn't just another student. I was you friend. You should have come to me. I mean, I was there with you, all the way. I know perfectly well what kind of nightmares we had to face that year."

"Exactly. It was a nightmare. It was the worst year of my entire life, Gin." Hermione argued "And it was my job to keep you guys safe, all of you! I couldn't afford to break down, not then, not now, not ever."

"Everyone breaks down, Hermione. It is human nature. And you said it yourself, that year was horrible. We needed to stay close together, be there for each other."

"You had a lot on your plate already."

"That is not the point!" Ginny insisted "The point was you went through all of it alone, when you didn't need to."

Hermione gulped, looking down at her hands "I… I wasn't alone."

There was a moment of silence between the two witches. Hermione couldn't master up the courage to face her friend. She had just partially confessed to Ginny that she hadn't, indeed, been alone that year. It was the first time she had confessed to that, out loud.

Oh please, Gin. Don't hate me. Don't hate me, please.

She heard Ginny intake a breath before asking "Malfoy?"

Hermione kept looking down at her hands, unsure if she should continue this. She knew Ginny wasn't a fool. Heck, nobody that had been in this living room was a fool. Of course, after that "open display of affection", she knew they were bound to be confused. Merlin, she was confused herself. For Malfoy to be so blunt about it, to just hold her like that in front of her best-friends, of her husband… She knew Ron would want to talk to her. She knew her friends would want an explanation sooner or later. Was it in their place to ask her that? Should she give them one? She didn't want to, Merlin, she really didn't want to. But what did that really accomplish? What was she so scared of? She was a grown woman, for Merlin's sake. They weren't in Hogwarts anymore. Malfoy wasn't the enemy bully. This was the adult world now. They were old enough to understand, weren't they? Sure she still had some trouble understanding it herself, but they were her friends, right? Friends stood with each other in times of need, the helped each other and they wouldn't judge. Right?

"Yes. Malfoy."

There, it was out, she had said it. Yes, Malfoy. Malfoy had been there for her. She had been there for him. And Merlin she had… She had… Merlin she had loved him, so much. She had loved him so fucking much.

"As a friend, or…?" Even though Ginny felt like she knew the answer, she had to ask anyway.

Hermione chuckled sadly at the ridicule of her friend's question "As a friend, as a… lover." She paused, turning to look directly at her friend "As everything. He was there for me."

Please don't hate me Ginny, oh please.

Ginny held her gaze and for what felt like hours, Hermione worried Ginny might laugh at her or feel disgusted with her but the redhead just gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand.

"I always knew you had a thing for him."

"Ginny!" Hermione felt her cheeks heating up.

"Oh come on, he was a vile git but he was hot."

"It wasn't… It wasn't like that!" Hermione explained, blushing. She looked down at their hands "He was… He changed, Gin. He regretted it all. He became… He became someone you could count on, someone that cared, someone that wanted to help and do good. Someone righteous, the kind of someone those around him could feel proud of. And he saved my life… twice."

"Why didn't you tell me at the time? I mean, I knew something wasn't right… Malfoy was definitely off that year, he was different. I just didn't think you were the reason behind it."

"And I wasn't." Hermione clarified "I mean, he came to the grand conclusion on his own. I was just there to guide him and show him the way, I guess."

"You also saved his life, then." Ginny concluded.

Hermione had never really looked at it that way. She had, hadn't she? They had saved each other.

"So, you are not mad?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

Ginny's gaze soften "Why should I be mad? Sure, he is still Malfoy and I'm not sure I fully understand what you could have liked about him, apart from his arse." Hermione rolled her eyes at that remark "And yes, I wish you could have told me. It hurts a little."

"Oh, Ginny, I'm really sor–"

"But" Ginny continued "I get why you didn't. I think, back then, I wouldn't react like this. I would probably think you were cursed or something. But I saw him during the battle, Hermione. He was really fighting with us. He had changed. And now here he is again, wanting to fight alongside us once more. That's all I need to know. So, thank-you, for telling me."

Hermione had never felt so relived in her entire life "Oh, Gin. Thank-you. I was so scared you would just call me a bunch of names and never talk to me again."

"Honestly, Hermione, you really need to trust your friends more." Ginny's expression then turned serious "I'm guessing, Ron doesn't know about anything, right?"

The brown-haired witch felt her gaze travelling to the place Ron had sat beside her "No. He doesn't."

"And Harry?"

"No one knows. Well, now you."

Ginny nodded in understanding "You know you have to tell Ron, right? I mean, Malfoy's back and… Well, you guys have a history and it is bound to show itself sooner or later."

Hermione sighed defeated "I know… I kept wishing I could just bring this to grave with me."

"Hermione, Ron's a big boy. Yes he has a temper, but I think you don't give him enough credit, sometimes. He loves you, he would do anything for you. So you got involved with Malfoy on your last year at Hogwarts, so what? It was years ago and it will never happen again."

For some reason, hearing Ginny say that made Hermione's stomach take a turn. Merlin, why?

"At first he may be shocked and he might get mad because it is Malfoy, but it's all in the past now. He is the one you married, he is the one you want to spend the rest of your life with so he'll get over it. And we'll get through this impeding war and we will find the ones who are fucking responsible for all of this and we'll defeat them and Malfoy will go back to wherever he came from and life goes back to normal. Simple."

Yes, looking at it like that it all seemed so simple, didn't it? It would all be so simple if part of the reason for Malfoy being here in the first place weren't because of her. And that she had faltered on her wedding day and that she had been thinking about that ever since and that Malfoy had just been in her house last night and that she had felt this urge to kiss him and –

"And it is like not Ron hasn't dated anyone before marrying you. There was that witch with the mole."

– And she really needed to stop thinking about this.

"I just hope they can find out something… I should be there with them." Hermione said.

"They will, Hermione. And we will bring the killer or killers to justice. We can win this. We did it once, we will do it again!"

Hermione was only partially listening, her attention focused on the TV in front of her, trying to get a sense of what was happening.

I hope so, Ginny. I really hope so.

* * *

 **I'm alive and I want to finish this story. I want to finish it. And I will. Love you all.**


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